


Unwanted

by Mari_UC



Category: DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-10-12 01:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 98,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17458103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_UC/pseuds/Mari_UC
Summary: ‘I’d be better off being markless’Tim growled looking at his domino mask remembering Jason’s words. He wasn’t supposed to be affected by those words. He was supposed to be over them. He was supposed to be fucking done with everything resembling an emotion about the stupid marking on his hip.He knew Jason didn’t wanted him. He knew Jason believed him to be unworthy.Jason would rather be markless.Well, then, fuck him very much.





	1. Chapter 1

 ‘ _I’d be better off being markless_ ’

Tim growled looking at his domino mask remembering Jason’s words. He wasn’t supposed to be affected by those words. He was supposed to be over them. He was supposed to be fucking _done_ with everything resembling an emotion about the stupid marking on his hip.

He knew Jason didn’t wanted him. He knew Jason believed him to be unworthy.

Unworthy of his mantle, unworthy of his family, unworthy of their _mark_.

Jason would _rather be markless_.

_Well, then, fuck him very much._

If Jason didn’t wanted to be his soulmate, Tim would stay the fuck away and ignore the symbol on his skin.

He’d done a good job of ignoring it for the past six years, since it appeared on his skin, one year into his tenure as Robin, the moment Jason was _brought back_. He’d made the math already, he knew it was the same moment he was crawling up his grave. He’d been with Steph and the fact that they weren’t mates hadn’t bothered either of them. Mismatch couples weren’t uncommon. It had worked for his mother and father. It could work with whoever he decides to settle with.

And if no one wants him… well, he’ll be alone. That works for Bruce. _Somewhat_.

So, yeah. Jason could keep the stupid remarks coming, he could keep throwing the barely concealed jabs at him. Tim can take them.

Or at least, he was supposed to be able to.

Today had been painful, though.

Tim wasn’t sure what had done it. Maybe it was the fact that Damian and Jon’s mark had finally presented. Maybe it was the fact that Dick had looked _so happy_ about them, like he’d wanted to cross over the laptop and hug Damian, before going on a long tirade about how being with your mate was _even better than flying_. Or maybe it was the fact that it had been the first time Jason had openly derided their mark in front of him.

Looking at him.

‘ _I’d be better off being markless._ ’

Tim closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, before putting on his domino mask. He needed to focus, he needed to be Red Robin.

And he was late for his patrol route.

“I’m taking the Fifth down to the piers.” Duke was working monitor duty on the Batcomputer tonight and half a second later he heard the _all clear_ to start patrol.

 _The Fifth_ was a pretty standard patrol route for the Family. It took you from Downtown all the way to the southern piers, bordering both Chinatown and the Lounge. Fifth St. itself was well lit, heavy with traffic and well-guarded by the police; but the alleyways and warehouses on its sides were filled with smugglers, micro-traffickers and the occasional gang of troublemakers. It was a patrol you took when you wanted to let off steam by hitting large groups of thugs with little or no heavy weaponry, no larger plots, no big players, no stakeouts and no detective work.

Just what Red Robin needed right now to leave _Tim problems_ aside.

He took a run from the balcony and threw himself off the side to swingging by a couple buildings. He embraced the familiar weight of his body as the metallic cable burned on his arms, before pushing up and letting inertia propel him forward to the next rooftop.

The sound of crates made him turn and he saw people finishing loading up an armored cargo truck. He pressed a button on the side of his mask and quickly read heat, radiation and chemical compositions on the area. No heat signatures, no gun powder and… _Jackpot_. “I’ve got a weapons cargo giving off some weird radiation,” he said to his comms, knowing Duke would take note of his information and follow traditional protocols. “Eight guys. They look like Maroni’s.”

“Hmm. I don’t have anything on a shipment… Hang on, Black Bat was working on something last week, I’ll ask.” Red clicked his tongue, he didn’t wanted a stake-out; he wanted some adrenaline release… He scouted the guys. Eight, all packing, none with anything larger than a handgun. He saw the red sedan at the end of the alley probably overseeing the procedure. He made a wide circle to try to get behind them and placed a tracker. As soon as he makes his presence known, these guys will leave the scene ‘ _unnoticed’_ and would lead him and Black Bat to their hideout.

Once the tracker was in place, Red went back to the front and waited for two minutes, and he still hadn’t gotten confirmation. He sighed exasperated, “They’re just eight, lightly armed. I’m taking them down. We can double check once they’re zip-tied,” he informed just before jumping and letting himself fall on the back of the driver for a silent takedown. He eased the guy’s fall with his bo and rolled him under the truck to avoid being noticed. He moved to the back and rolled two smoke grenades and started to count to five, silently climbing on a fire escape to his left.

Just as he reached the last step, the smoke started hissing, quickly enveloping the truck. The seven remaining thugs looked confused towards it, which gave Red the perfect opportunity to jump from behind and start taking them out while they kept looking at the truck.

The first two fell rather easily from a double swing from his bo; then he moved quickly to a line of three, kicking on their knees and bashing two of their heads together. Red heard the sound of the sedan’s engine revving and he smiled as his plan worked as imagined.

With some luck he’ll get to team up with Black and take a whole Maroni hideout, which would make this a good night for taking his mind of Jason…

He sighed as he dodged a crowbar aimed from behind him.  He was supposed to be _focused_. He was supposed to be distracting himself _from_ Tim issues, not getting _distracted by_ Tim issues.

He spun on his heel and did a reverse hook kick that surprised Crowbar guy enough to allow Red to turn completely and bash his head against a dumpster. He quickly moved to the side and used the extension of his bo to hit thugs seven and eight with simple hits to the head.

He breathed smugly looking at the guys on the floor and was about to take a string of zip-ties from his belt when a voice to his side startled him.

“Hm… And here I thought you birds liked to chirp while fighting.” Red turned around, bo ready and faced the man before him… only to realize he’d fucked up.

He could recognize the white mask and red eye-piece everywhere. “Deadshot? What are _you_ doing here?” he asked reading his bo and moving to the side where he could have a wider chance of dodging and attack, already regretting not waiting for Black Bat.

“Ahh, so you do talk! Good, working with the Squad has made me enjoy some banter in a fight-” the man said raising his wrist gun towards him. Red looked around, if Deadshot decides to attack he’s gonna have a hell of a fight on his hands. He touched a button on his bo and opened the mic channel to allow Duke to listen. “It gets too quiet when I’m solo…” Deadshot added.

“This isn’t your usual stint, Deadshot,” Red countered hoping to trick him into speaking a little more, and giving Duke a chance to call for back-up. Plus, he was a little intrigued, Deadshot normally had two types of contracts, assassinations for the highest bidder until he gets caught and Suicide Squad missions for Waller until he gets released. Then the cycle starts again.

Running security for a lowlife like Maroni isn’t his normal MO.

“Maroni’s cash is as good as anyone’s, kid.” Red almost smiled at that. _Yeah, that checks out._ Deadshot took a step forward raising his second arm and pointing both wrist guns at him. “Look, I have a contract to fulfill, but I don’t enjoy shooting kids. So, move and we can both be going our merry way.”

Red took a step back towards the truck, noticing a couple of the thugs were starting to wake up. He cursed trying to think of a possible scenario where he didn’t ended up riddled with bullets, when the mic went live on his ear.

“Roger, Red. I’ve sent your coordinates to everyone. Red Hood and Black Bat are closest. Five minutes, ten tops,” Duke’s voice came through the comm link and Red allowed himself a breath.

Ok, five or ten minutes of _dodge a bullet_ against the world’s most skilled marksman.

Not easy, but completely doable. 

“Hmm…” he hummed trying to sound as if he was considering it, but giving himself a quick rundown of the situation, the truck was a good five feet away and the driver’s door was still open, though he was the wrong side of the truck. If he starts running towards it, he won’t even make it to the back door before Deadshot… well… _shoots_ him _dead_. He’ll need a screen and some distraction… Deadshot didn’t seem to be packing too much firepower, though with the man, you can never know. All he needed to do was create the distraction and some misdirection.

“Sorry. Not gonna happen,” he said throwing two small smoke bombs and a tear gas marble at Deadshot, trying to create a curtain while he moved back towards the wall, to the other side of the narrow alleyway, throwing himself behind the dumpster as a barrage of bullets started to hit everything around him.

He smiled when he heard the thugs were hit by the tear gas and started to groan. He knew Deadshot wouldn’t give a shit about shooting through them if it meant hitting him, but they would distract and obscure his field of vision as they stand and try to scurry from the tear gas.

As predicted, he heard an annoyed Deadshot curse and Red took his chance to run up to the truck, and slid under it, rolling until he was on the driver’s door and kicking the driver, who was starting to get up from under the truck. He got himself on the driver seat with the bullets grazing all around him.

He started it and drove up Fifth trying to get away from Deadshot with his cargo.

He knew the assassin would be likely to follow him to try to continue his contract, but at least this way, Red could keep some distance between himself and the bullets, and he could bring Deadshot somewhere he could have the advantage.

Red touched his comms, “Hey. I’m on a truck down on the Fifth. What’s Black Bat’s location?”

“Kennedy Boulevard, coming up on Richmond. But Hood’s just a couple blocks behind you, if you…”

“Patch me through Black,” Red replied with no chance for rebuttal. Sure enough, two seconds later his comms went live.

“Red,” Black Bat said, and it made Red smile to hear his sister’s voice, instantly raising his spirits. He hoped after this he could convince her to prolong her stay on Gotham indefinitely. “Hi, BB,” he greeted before getting down to business “So, what do you say I bring you the World’s Second Master Assassin and we take him down together?” he asked with false calm as he darted through traffic trying to make it to Kennedy Boulevard, and trying to keep Deadshot from gaining on him

“Fun,” she answered, making Red’s smile grow, “Construction site, on Kenendy.” Red agreed and accelerated the truck trying to reduce the distance to Kennedy. It was a good ten blocks away. Which wouldn’t be a huge problem, except Deadshot was on a bike, next to him and he’d given up on shooting at the truck and was starting to focus on the tires, forcing Red to zig-zag on the lanes. He had no doubt Deadshot had something on him capable of toppling the truck. If anything, Red was surprised he’d managed to stay on the road long enough to have the conversation with Black and Duke.

By all means, Deadshot should have blown him sky high a long time ago. It was as if… _Of course…_

Deadshot was trying to preserve the cargo. His contract was, probably, _safe delivery_ of weapons. And given the care they were treating them with, they were probably pretty fragile.

Which was starting to bother him, though. Why would Sal Maroni hire someone as skilled and expensive to oversee a simple weapon’s transfer? Even with the radiation component, this wasn’t a dirty bomb, it was multiple weapons. It was something smaller, produced in bulk but still expensive. Too expensive if it warrants the supervision of someone like Deadshot…

Something’s not adding up.

“D. Recalibrate the Wayne satellite over Gotham to check for any form of residual chemical component or radiation from this truck, try to get all you can from it in case we end up losing the cargo.” These crates are definitively not Ak-47s, but his mask isn’t picking anything out of the ordinary.

Is like it’s…

Red swerved hard to the right to avoid hitting a car Deadshot had forced into his lane. Getting on Fifth might have been a mistake after all. He conjured a mental map of Gotham, but there was no alternative route towards the construction site Black was waiting him at. He cursed again when another bike lost control after being hit by Deadshot, forcing him out of the road.

Red got on the sidewalk, and had to think fast to avoid hitting a pedestrian. Luckily, the sidewalk was mostly empty at this time of the night. He veered left and tried to accelerate to leave the side before looking back and failing to see Deadshot, he breathed and managed to stay a couple seconds on the right track, before he felt a hit on his side and cursed as he saw a bus being rammed against him.

 _Somehow_ , Deadshot had gotten off his bike into a _fricking school bus_ and was forcing him to stay in the sidewalk, hitting every lamppost, trashcan and bollard on his way.

Red tried to get away from being pressed against it, but before he had a chance to maneuver he was rammed savagely, this time into a building, The truck crashed into the brick wall like it was made of sand and Red felt more than saw the truck crashing into the wooden floor before falling into a basement, and then a second basement, before finally hitting a hard rock wall.

His head was killing him, and the only reason he wasn’t currently sprayed all over the windshield was Batman’s _always use the safety belt_ drill.

He unfastened it and opened the door, trying to right himself to no avail, barely managing to get out of the driver seat before falling to his knees. He felt the water running below him and realized he’d managed to plow through an entire house and into the sewer. “Black… come in,” he said trying to catch his breath. He’ll need her to make the trip down to this place and they could try to ambush Deadshot down here. It will be hard with the close quarters, but the darkness could give them a small advantage.

That was, if Black Bat would answer.

Red tried again, before changing channels and trying Duke. Again to no avail. “End of the line, birdy boy,” a voice said behind him and he turned around seeing the red glow before actually noticing the accompanying mask and man. “You guys really made me _work_ this _easy gig…_ ” Red raised his bo and replied “Work’s not done yet” as Deadshot came a little closer to him.

“Yes… Yes it is.” Red looked at the gun Deadshot was holding getting disoriented for a second, before it all made sense in his mind.

_Oh. **That’s** why he hired Deadshot._

As the green hue filled the sewer, he felt his entire body burned and his throat went raw from a deep scream he was unable to contain. In a second, Tim thought he hadn’t really expected to die in a sewer… it didn’t felt _right_. Then the pain started all over again feeling like thousands of shards being forcefully pushed under his skin, scrapping it from his muscles.

Tim started to blackout when the green hue faded and he managed to make a figure out on the darkness. He took his hand down to his hip, to _his mark_ feeling his eyes swell up with tears as his whole body felt as if it was about to crack open in thousands of pieces.

_Fuck…_

He felt his body fall against the hard concrete and a single sentence started playing in his mind as the world faded from green to black and he grabbed his mark harder.

‘ _I’ll be better off being markless._ ’

-_-_-_-_-

Jason looked down on the streets feeling an itch on his wrist he _knew_ was merely psychosomatic. It always got like that every time someone started talking about _soulmates_.

Despite whatever the _fucking universe_ thought about it, Jason wasn’t about to go in search for his soulmate. He didn’t wanted a soulmate. He didn’t cared for a soulmate. And still, the mark on his wrist was a constant reminder of the Universe telling him to go fuck himself. A final joke, marking him with the promise of someone _made for him_.

_Yeah, right._

He took a long drag of his unfiltered hand-rolled cigarette and held the nicotine in his lungs for a good couple seconds feeling himself easing into the night.

_Fuck soulmates._

“Hood. Come in.” Jason cursed taking the comms out of the helmet and holding it in his ear. “What?” he barked on the mic and only felt marginally bad for the kid still in training wheels. He was just starting to get accustomed to working with the rest of the bats, and still tended to withdraw from any confrontation with them.

Still, mission came first, so Signal kept talking, “Red Robin needs backup, ASAP. He just messed up Deadshot’s contract.” Jason wanted to snort at that. _Well, that’s a fuck up._

Even the Big Bad Bat preferred to deal with Lawton on extremely close combat, or through his finances and blackmail. Messing one of his contracts was a surefire way of getting yourself a couple new bullet holes.

Pretty bird was probably unaware of Deadshot’s involvement or he would have asked for support _way_ earlier.

He tossed the cigarette and put his helmet on as he jumped on his bike. “On my way,” he replied to Signal and took off following the holo-map that appeared on his helmet. For a good couple seconds the dot stayed in an alleyway before he saw it start to move up the Fifth. _What the…_

“Hood, he’s taking an armored truck through Fifth…” Hood groaned and accelerated, he hated car chases. Collateral damage increased tenfold in chases. Despite what his proclivity for massive explosions might suggest, he hated collateral damage. Particularly, civilians. Especially, Gothamites.

He could live with a villain, or a grunt, or even a hero caught in the crossfires; they’d sign up for that shit. Civilians hadn’t.

He revved up trying to catch the action ahead of him. He passed the alleyway the dot had started on and saw a couple guys trying to catch a breath, probably from a smokescreen Pretty Bird had used to try to get away.

From Floyd Lawton.

Because Pretty Bird was being chased by Deadshot.

Jason felt a pit on his belly fire up and he started hitting the 90 MPH and slithering through cars and the odd pedestrian. He looked up and saw the telltale white mask on a black motorbike shooting at an armored cargo truck about three blocks away.

“I see Red, I’m coming close,” he informed and was about to ask to be patched through to ask Red to slow down and allow him to get closer, when Signal spoke on his ear “Roger,” he said “He’s meeting Black Bat on Kennedy.” And Jason had to swerve right to avoid hitting an out of control bike. “What?!” he asked to his mic looking up to the truck zig-zaging trying to avoid having the tires blown up. _Why the hell is Red moving **away**? _ “I’m two blocks behind him, I’m seeing the fucker right ahead! If he slows down…” he muttered trying to gain more speed.

He can catch them, he can help Red… if he just _slows down_ for, like, ten fucking seconds.

He cursed and sped up when he saw Deadshot decide to shoot the cars in front of them to force Red Robin into the slow lane. Jason freed his hand and took his handgun and started shooting at mercenary.

Before he had a chance to actually think of his next step, Deadshot shoot a motorcycle ahead of him, forcing Red into the sidewalk. Jason took the opportunity to shoot at Deadshot’s tires and felt a smirk grew in his face when he started skidding on the road; however, his smile didn’t last long, as Deadshot jumped off the bike into a _fucking_ _school bus_.

Because only in Gotham there would be a school bus just _right there_ to be hijacked by a fucking assassin in the middle of a car chase.

Deadshot took the school bus and rammed Red’s armored trunk twice before forcing him down a brick wall. Jason had to hit the brakes harder than he expected to avoid being sandwiched between the school bus and his own bike and jumped into the street shooting at Deadshot, trying to put himself between Red and the mercenary.

“Really? Another bird?” Deadshot asked and Jason smirked. “Reformed drug-lord, actually,” he retorted raising both his guns at him. He knew he didn’t had a chance against Lawton at this distance. He’ll need to bring this fight to close quarters if he wanted a slim chance of…

Jason threw himself to his right to avoid the projectile being launched by Lawton before realizing it was a fucking grenade and he scrambled to get some distance before it exploded. He groaned but managed to keep himself in one piece. He cursed looking up and seeing Deadshot was only trying to get him distracted and going after Red.

He stood up still feeling the ringing on his ears and walked down following the wreck of the truck. He saw a green flash of light and then heard Tim’s chilling scream as he threw himself down to the sewers coming behind Deadshot and watching Tim’s body falling down.

A dark cold filled his insides and he growled as he shoot at Deadshot’s figure. Apparently he’d taken him by surprise because Deadshot didn’t moved fast enough and Jason was able to get him on his leg. The hiss of pain brought a dark satisfaction to Jason, who turned to look at Tim, the light was barely enough to look at the still body, but Jason was able to see a small movement on his chest.

_Breathing._

Jason took half a second to register the relief he felt at seeing the bird’s chest raising before turning to Deadshot who was pointing his wrist guns at him. “This makes things a little complicated, but,” Deadshot said in a conversational manner and Jason growled at him moving closer and pointing his two guns at him “I think we can make a deal.”

The pool of blood forming in Deadshot’s leg told him he must have hit a vein. He was bleeding out quite fast. “How about this? _I_ shoot you, _you_ bleed to death. Deal?” Jason asked trying to transmit a cockiness he wasn’t feeling and risking to move closer.

“That’s one way to look at it. Another one, is taking into account that I just poisoned that one and he has, uh… I don’t know, maybe, 15 minutes, if… you know what I shot him with and I give you the antidote.” Jason risked a glance at Tim.

_Poisoned._

_Fifteen minutes._

“So, here’s my deal. I tell you what I hit him with and let you leave with the kid; and in return you leave me here with the cargo.” Deadshot kept saying, his voice somehow cutting through the deafening ringing in Jason’s ears, a ringing that only allowed his brain to let a single word repeat at high speed on his brain. _Poisoned. Poisoned. Poisoned…_ Jason growled moving closer to Deadshot and sparing a glance to Tim.

 _He **poisoned** Tim? _Tim, who was laying on his chest, barely breathing and with his legs and arms twisted in an odd angle. _This asshole **poisoned** the pretty bird._

_He poisoned him, and now pretends to **gamble** with his **life**?_

Tim… _He’s…_  

A reflection of light caught Jason’s silver handguns as he raised them and it was enough to make his brain catch two things at once: one, his hands were shaking violently, and two, his silver guns should _not_ look green under the hue of the sewer.

It took him a fraction of a second to realize what was happening.

“You’re bluffing,” he said trying to gain some control of his mind.

He can’t let himself fall into a Pit rage right now.

“Look at him, his eyes should be bloodshot and yellow,” said Deadshot and Jason had to hold his weapons tight to prevent the kneejerk reaction of shooting the guy on the head. He didn’t needed to look at Tim though, that was no bluff. “What did you shot him with?” he hissed through clenched teeth and moving himself closer to him, barely being able keep his hands from trembling in anger, and using every shred of mental power to prevent his index from flexing.

_Tim’s **dying.** He’s dying, right there, and this asshole **killed** him._

“Do we have a deal?” Lawton asked standing in front of him and lowering his weapons. Jason growled low at him trying to reign in his emotions. He should be _calming down_ , not reacting. “Here’s a deal; I count to two before blowing your brains,” he retorted “One.”

“Two,” Deadshot said calling his bluff. Of course he wasn’t about to kill him. Even though every cell in his body was asking him to put a fucking bullet through his brain and then grind his corpse for touching his bird. He deserved to burn in the deepest pits of hell, and Jason would gladly arrange a visit…

But, Tim’s dying…

He’s dying and punishing the asshole who was responsible had to wait until he wasn’t dying anymore…

Jason lowered his gun.

_I have to save him… Just roll with it…_

“What did you shot him with?” he asked again looking at Lawton.

“Artificial Kryptonite,” he replied before pointing at a metallic case. “Antidote’s the blue liquid.” Jason looked at him and raised his gun again.

 _Good._ _Just shoot him._

_He tried to kill Tim, he’ll do it again…_

_You already…_

Jason’s hand trembled before he moved away from him and looked into the case. Two vials of blue liquid were stashed next to a portable pressure injector. He took one out and went to Tim- to Red “He was hit point blank, he’ll need a subcutaneous dose on the abdomen, like an insulin shot. He’ll need a second one, about three hours from now.” Lawton was talking and moving towards the truck, Jason noticed he left the case with the second dose undisturbed as he moved off the tunnel they came in through.

Jason was half tempted to shot him on the back of the head as he walked away but had to bite the feeling down…

_Just kill him. Just turn and shoot the asshole._

_He deserves it._

_He tried to kill Tim._

_He tried to take him away from-_

Jason breathed slowly calming the green fire inside of him.

Still,

“Lawton,” he called him, and the man stopped on his tracks, not turning around. “Leave Gotham.” Jason said with a hardly collected voice. “You messed up the wrong bird.”

He barely saw the nod, before Lawton moved to the upper levels, carrying two crates of weapons. Probably all he could carry right now.

Jason kneeled before Tim and turned him around to see his face, he saw his eyes were shut hard and his face was scrunched, he was covered with sweat, large drops collecting on his throat. His breath was labored and short and a wheezing sound was coming from his lungs.

Jason tried to filter out every sign and readied the injector, he noticed Tim had his hand secured on the side of his abdomen, right above his hip.

Pretty bird had probably overheard he’ll need a subcutaneous and was now trying to ease the job for him raising his shirt.

Jason allowed himself a soft smile thinking of his brave sibling as he covered Tim’s hand with his own. Tim groaned and stiffed his hand, “It’s ok, Red. I’ll just need to give you this-” he said calmly trying to reassure him as he removed the hand and readied himself to give him a shot him in the hip.

He couldn’t though. As soon as he lifted Tim’s hand, he saw the skin on his hip, and it felt as if the entire world just stopped spinning. Jason felt his breath catch on his throat and felt a full-bodied shiver looking at Tim’s hip. At the mark on his hip…

A charcoal mark about two inches long. A mark that, so far, he’d only seen inked on his own wrist.

_Wh-?_

_That’s my soulmark._

_Why…? Tim hads my soulmark… on his skin. On his hip…_

_Why would Tim have my mark? Wh---_

A wheeze from Tim’s throat brought him back to the present and he pinched Tim’s skin to create a surface to inject the antidote.

The antidote he needed because he was poisoned.

Tim… was poisoned. Tim… who has _his_ mark.

Tim… his…

No.

He couldn’t be. This had to be another cosmic joke. Another silver of hope.

This had to be something else.

A tattoo… A… something, something else, something different.

He couldn’t…

Tim wasn’t… his soulmate.

A crackle of his comms made him snap out if his circle, and he picked Tim and grabbed the case trying to walk back to the surface. He couldn’t allow himself to be compromised right now. He needed to focus, he couldn’t allow himself to be thinking about this right now.

 _Fuck this…_ _This is why I didn’t wanted a soul-_

Tim whimpered in his arms and Jason snapped unable to finish the thought, feeling shame coming over him after thinking that while Tim’s dying on his arms.

Tim…

His soulmate.

Dying in his arms.

The thought sent a dark shiver down his spine.

Finding his soulmate had been close to him for the past four years, only for him to die in his arms.

Now,  _that_ would be perfect punchline to the cosmic joke that was his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is focused on Jason's POV.
> 
> I'm trying to have each chapter focused on a single POV.

_174 MPH_.

Jason snarled at his bike. It kept pushing back as he neared the speed limit, but the body on his back had gone limp seventy two seconds ago and Jason wasn’t sure he could feel the breath against his neck that was grounding him and preventing him from slipping back into a stupid mental cycle of confusion and Pit rage.

As soon as he’d managed to climb out, he’d strapped Tim tightly against him and started a mad run down to Thompson’s clinic.

If this had happened at any other hour, his carelessness would have cost them their lives. But Jason couldn’t fucking care. All he cared was delivering his sou- _Tim_ … _delivering_ **_Tim_** to Leslie.

And then probably going back and putting a bullet though Deadshot’s skull.

Or maybe his balls.

He hadn’t decided on that yet.

He cursed as he nearly missed his turn and had to break and swerve to the right. The sudden deceleration sent his back wheel up and he had to put their combined weight back to prevent them from rolling down the avenue. He took a second to shake the adrenaline off as he saw the clinic about to 150 yards down street.

He managed to keep the speed just below three digits as he arrived to the back door. He snapped the straps and grabbed Tim before his bike had even stopped and jumped off it as he ran into the clinic.

“I’m here,” he grumbled to his mic as he adjusted Tim’s body in his arms. He refused to acknowledge the part of his brain that was telling him how _right_ it felt to carry him, and how _wrong_ it felt to have it as dead weight.

_No._

_Not dead._

_**Inert** weight._

_**Asleep** weight._

_He’s not fucking dead. Not…_

“Already?” a voice came through his helmet. He growled loudly as he put Tim on the first cot he found. “Right, yeah, I already called Leslie. She should be about to-” As Signal’s nervous voice kept rattling, the old doctor walked in briskly, straight to her patient, without uttering a word. She started hearing, touching and prodding at different parts of Tim’s body.

Tim’s _still_ body.

_Dead weight._

Jason shook those thoughts away as he focused on the methodical movements of the Doctor.

“I need these off,” she said signaling his suit and Jason busied himself removing all the security layers of Tim’s suit and taking away the pieces, busying his mind naming each part of the Red Robin suit to prevent himself from thinking unnecessary thoughts.

Just focus on helping Dr. T… Just take the suit, fold it and let her work…

He left the underclothes and in a stupid bout of… whatever, he went out of his way to cover Tim’s hip.

He didn’t want Leslie to see _it_.

_Our mark._

If he’d taken a second to consider the fact that Leslie had thoroughly checked both him and Tim, he would have realized she probably already knew their marks. And if she had the memory he knew she had, she probably already put the pieces together. Although, maybe not. Most people tend to be shy and careful not to see the marks. And if they saw it, most people tend to look away, not to fixate on it. It was a very intimate image, other people’s soulmarks.

Most people only cared that it didn’t fit theirs.

But, even if Leslie had seen it, Jason didn’t wanted her seeing it _again_.

It was stupid, but it felt as _his_.

It was his soulmark.

And Jason wanted it covered, so he covered it.

A whisper in his ear made him turn away and focus on his earpiece.

“- just one.” He could easily recognize Black’s voice.

“One is enough, Black Bat.” Batman’s voice took command of the conversation as he started barking orders to everyone. Batman and Black Bat had taken the news of Red’s injury rather badly, but Jason had been too preoccupied with bringing him to the clinic to actually care, only now realizing the conversation must have been going on since he walked into the clinic. “Take it to the Batcave. Robin, is on his way to the Clinic to get a sample of Red’s blood. Everyone else, once Oracle finishes recalibrating the satellite, we’ll converge on Deadshot’s position.”

Jason had been a bit lost on most of the orders, but the final one made him perk up and touch his comms.

“Deadshot’s mine,” he said, knowing the anger in his voice was patent. It might have been the reason everyone stayed silent for a couple seconds.

Batman was the first one to react.

“Negative. You’ll stay at the clinic,” he ordered.

“ _What_?” Jason bristled at the order.

No way he’s staying put, not right after the asshole poisoned his bird in front of him. Not after he _let him go_ , when every instinct in his body was telling him he should have put a bullet to his brain. “Listen, old man-” he started, but Batman stopped him.

“You already made contact, he’ll expect you. Now, you need to stay-”

“Fuck you,” Jason growled into his comm. Made contact? What’s that supposed to mean?

A thought crossed Jason’s mind filling him with bile.

Batman blamed him from letting Deadshot get away. He thinks…

_He thinks I let him hurt Pretty Bird on purpose, and then let him get away._

_He thinks I let him **kill him** on purpose._

_He-_

“You think I _let him_ get away,” he didn’t need to ask, he was merely stating what he knew to be true.

 “You prioritized Red’s life. That was the right call.” Batman cut him effectively shutting Jason’s line of thought, before continuing “Now, you _will_ stay with Red Robin and wait for Alfred to finish analyzing the compound. Once he sends whatever antidote is needed, you _will_ stay with Red until he wakes and you _will_ _wait there_ while the rest of us converge on Deadshot position.”

Batman’s voice was sharp and his orders clear-cut. They were absolute. They were to be followed. And any other day, he would have bristled and disobeyed, but three words rang throughout Batman’s orders.

_Stay with Red._

As soon as Batman had said those words, Jason had looked down and saw Tim’s face covered in sweat and twisted with pain. One look and Jason knew he wouldn’t be able to tear himself from his side.

He’ll stay there, he’ll keep him safe.

_Screw Deadshot._

The asshole wasn’t worth it. All he needed was staying with Tim and making sure he was fine. And in his mind, being here would help achieve that.

“You have your orders,” Batman said and a flurry of agreements followed.

Soon enough, Leslie had Tim cleaned, dried and hooked into a couple of monitoring machines and a bag of saline solution and morphine. He hadn’t bled, so he wouldn’t need a transfusion; and he didn’t had any internal injuries, so he didn’t need prepping for surgery.

He was _only poisoned_ and the antidote had already been given.

So, there was nothing to do.

Nothing.

Just sitting there, looking at Tim fight for his life.

_-_-_-_

Jason focused on Tim’s small figure laying down on a cot.  

He looked stupidly small there.

Jason had always been aware the third Robin was tiny, especially compared to him, Dick and Bruce. He barely reached 5’6’’ and he must weigh about as much as one of Jason’s legs.

He’d taken an absurd amount of pleasure teasing Tim about that.

But now, looking at the small frame of the man, he couldn’t help but feel a little twist in his gut thinking he should have done more to press him into gaining more bulk, maybe now he wouldn’t look so fucking small in that bed, and Jason could stop feeling as though the bed might swallow him if he tears his eyes just for a second.

Maybe, if Tim was a little larger, a bit more muscular, he could have fended off Deadshot and would have managed to escape.

Maybe… Maybe he wouldn’t have.

Maybe Jason was just overthinking and he was just going crazy trying not to think of the mark in his wrist, a mark that had started to itch like crazy ever since he sat on the stool to watch the man he was _destined_ _to spend the rest of his life with_ fought off a poison.

After Leslie had gone out, Jason had raised Tim’s shirt and he’d stared at his mark, not risking to touch it despite the fact that his whole body was aching just to do that. To feel and see if it was true what all the books said, about the connection of two soulmarks.

Still, it felt wrong, to touch Tim while he wasn’t aware.

So he’d walked back and sat in a corner.

This was going to be a fucking nightmare.

He just _knew_ it.

Jason wasn’t exactly sure when his mark has presented. He remembered _not_ having one when he’d died.

He was pretty sure he didn’t had it when Joker had captured him.

He was aware of having it when he was in the League, being trained by Talia. He had vague recollections of his days on the League, before being thrown into the Pit. He wasn’t sure, but he believes he had it by then.

So, he had to have presented sometime between being captured and being resurrected.

Before today’s massive revelation; Jason’s working theory was that he’d presented sometime during Joker’s torture. He had had his uniform then, and his uniform included gloves that covered all the way to his elbow. So while he remembered the torture vividly, he hadn’t seen his wrists.

Up until five hours ago, one of Jason’s most horrifying thoughts had circled around the idea that he had presented _while_ he was being tortured. _Because_ he was being tortured.

He’d learned to hate his mark because of it.

The thought that _it_ had presented because of _him._ Because of that _clown_.

A mark, a reminder of the time he’d been hurt so badly, he’d been so _desperately_ _alone,_ his own body had reacted and his bond had presented.

A reminder that he’d been tortured and killed.

A reminder that, even with a bonded one, he’d died before meeting them.

He remembered a nightmare, not too long after being back in Gotham plotting Joker’s and Batman’s demises, where he went to kill the Joker and his mark burned a hole on his wrist, driving him crazy.

A nightmare where he’d been mated to the Joker.

That his torture, death and resurrection had _bound them_ to each other.

Jason had been too close to cut off his own arm that morning.

Now that he thought about it, Jason realized it had been a thought of Tim that had prevented him from going through with it. He remembered looking up from the sink, where he was pressing a knife to his soulmark, and hi sight landed on one of his boards, one filled with images of Titans Tower.

The idea of _wanting to hurt Tim_ , wanting to feel his life drain from his body with _his own hands_. _That_ _thought_ had been enough to stop him from mutilating himself.

True, it was probably not the _best_ thought to have and surely it was not going to win him a soulmate of the year award. But still…

Still…

Up until a couple hours ago, and ever since he’d been aware of his mark, Jason was sure - he was certain – having a soulmate was a cosmic joke. He was sure he’d be tied to an asshole, or a killer, or that he’ll die old and alone, never meeting them.

Or that they’ll die on him.

That one day, he’ll wake up to a white mark and his heart would break and his mind would recede into Pit madness.

He’d almost resigned himself to it.

He’d allowed himself to hate it. To discard it. To reject any idea of a soulmate.

All that to ready himself. He’d been sure the soulmark was going to prove to be another way for life to kick him in the balls and toss him around. He was sure it was meant to be a fucking sledgehammer to the chest.

And he’d been ready. He was _ready_ for whatever destiny wanted to throw at him. Or so he’d thought.

Jason looked again at the figure of Tim.

He had _not_ been ready for this. He had not been ready for a soulmate he’d _want_.

For one he could actually see himself being with.

He’d expected anything, except the idea he might actually get a real soulmate.

It had fucking _blindsided_ him. It was _twisting_ _him_.

Tim, his soulmate.

He surprised himself, finding how _right_ that thought sounded in his mind.

His body shivered as he remembered the weight of the bird in his arms, his warm breath on the back of his neck.

Jason rested his head on the wall and closed his eyes picturing images of the bird in different scenarios. Waking up looking like a zombie in the Manor, bantering with Dick and Damian, challenging Bruce about WE business, commanding the Titans in battle, challenging opponents twice his size and beating them to a pulp.

He hadn’t realized how many images he could conjure. He hadn’t realized how often his eyes lingered on his Pretty Bird as he did just about anything.

He traveled mentally through a day in Tim’s life and he was surprised to notice he was able to picture him in just about any scenario.

He opened his eyes and looked at his covered wrist.

_Tim’s my soulmate…_

Jason felt his head light and had to exhale softly trying to gather his bearings.

Years of hating his mark, and then, in one minute, in one second, his ideas of what his soulmate is, what it should be… they’re flying off the window.

One second, he’s denouncing his mark, wishing to be markless; and in the next, he’s embracing him. Missing his touch. Realizing how his body aches for him.

How much he’s been missing and pinning after him.

He looked back at the small body on the cot. He’d already catalogued every inch of Tim’s body, but he found himself drawn to his face again. To his hair.

It had gotten longer again, falling well below his forehead covering his eyebrows now that it wasn’t properly combed, as Tim wore it; or forced into submission with products, as Red did.

Jason had noticed Tim let his hair grew in Gotham and he trimmed it in San Francisco. He’d realized this a couple months back and he’d mentioned it during some patrol. Tim had looked at him weird and simply answered Kon and Cassie bothered him a lot about his long hair. Jason closed his eyes and bit his lip preventing a snort from coming out of his throat as he remembered the feeling in his gut at that confession.

It had bothered him.

It still did.

He’d thought it was because Tim had let himself be peer-pressured into cutting his hair. Now though, the idea of Tim cutting his hair to _please Kon_ sat like disgusting mud on his throat.

Tim’s boyfriend.

The Super Boy-toy.

He’d teased Tim endlessly with him. At first, it riled Tim up, then he’d just roll his eyes and change the subject.

Jason swallowed hard remembering that.

Two months ago, he’d decided to stop teasing him about it when he realized it didn’t had an effect. Dick had mentioned something about maybe the two of them being together.

That night, Jason had found out Black Mask was planning a bombing and he’d taken down one of his hideouts _hard_.

He’d been about to cross _the line_ a couple times that night.

Now, in hindsight, he realized it had been fucking jealousy.

Because his soulmate was probably dating another man.

Jason sighed as he thought about that.

Tim was dating the Clone. He wondered if this newfound knowledge might be enough to break them up…

He scoffed at the idea, even though it reduced the feeling in his throat.

He focused again on Tim’s face, going down from his hair and into his eyes. Or the _sockets_ that were supposed to be his eyes. Jason knew every single Bat had eye bags. They had to, it was like a merit badge.

He knew Dick, Damian and Steph worried about them, for different reasons, and tried their best to make sure to take extra care of their eyes. Bruce, Babs, Tim, Cass and himself just rolled with it and wore tons of concealer. Well, _they_ did… Jason didn’t really had a reason to hide his bags or his scars like the rest of them, considering his _public_ persona was a rotting corpse.

But still. Tim’s bags were purple and they offered an ugly contrast against his porcelain skin. Jason clicked his tongue as his wrist prickled again at the idea of touching Tim’s skin.

His thoughts were cut short when the window opened almost silently behind him, he turned on high alert, but eased himself into the chair as the current Robin entered the room. Robin walked straight to Tim’s bed barely spending a second on a nod aimed at him. He took out a vial and extracted a sample of blood from the inside of Tim’s elbow before walking up to him and opening his palm to him with an expecting gaze.

Jason raised an eyebrow and Robin clicked his tongue annoyed, “The antidote. Pennyworth wishes to inspect it before giving it to Drake.” Jason fished into his jacket for the blue vial feeling annoyed at forgetting what he was supposed to do.

He was far more distracted than he’d thought, if he’d forgotten the _one thing_ he was supposed to do.

Still, Kid was looking far too smug at catching him distracted, so he plastered a fake scowl and grunted “Codenames,” in his best Batman interpretation (a fucking _great_ one, if he says so himself) enjoying the light coloring at the base of Robin’s neck at being outed on a slip.

“This is Thompson’s clinic, it’s a safe space,” Robin cried having lost his smug expression. And God, it was still too easy to rile him up.

“We’re still in uniform,” Jason countered ignoring the fact that he was actually right, but Jason was too entertained by the kid’s pout and huff as he snatched the vial off his hand and walked to the window.

He’d expected Robin to simply jump out, but he stopped on the frame for a second and turned his head minutely towards Tim, “Father will make sure he pays,” he muttered softly, and Jason wasn’t sure if it was a promise to Tim, a comforting statement for him, or a self-assurance to keep himself from going to join the fight, instead of heading to the Cave.

Probably all three.

Bats trained in these kind of _meaning behind the meaning_ statements.

Still, he hummed in appreciation, Damian, or rather Robin again, nodded and jumped off.

Robin’s voice brought his comm back to life with a simple update. “I picked the samples, going to the Cave for analysis.” Batman’s acknowledgement came in the form of a humming noise.

He was probably busy with the stakeout.

Jason started going over different channels on his comms, trying to find the right set of frequencies to oversee the capture of Deadshot. If he was not present, he was sure as hell going to hear it, and maybe he’ll convince the brat on monitor duty to patch him into Bat’s bodycam.

Deciding on his course of action, Jason put his feet on one of the clinic metallic bedposts carefully monitoring any change on Tim’s condition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!!
> 
> I want to thank everyone who commented, subscribed, left kudos, or just read and enjoyed the story. I wasn't expecting to receive so many positive comments to this story. It really inspired me to continue it and post the second chapter earlier. I hope you’ve enjoyed it.
> 
> Love,  
> Mari


	3. Chapter 3

Dick jumped off the Javelin into the clinic’s rooftop feeling a painfully familiar dread fill his body as he descended into the building.

_‘Tim’s hurt, he’s in Thompson’s clinic. He’s stable.‘_

That’s all he had known for the past five hours as he flew from Michigan to Gotham.

All Bruce had deigned to tell him.

_For five fucking hours._

It was moments like this that made Dick want to reconsider his decision not to make Gotham a fixed place to live.

He couldn’t though. He couldn’t be still here.

He’d tried going to Blüd, but that place hadn’t felt like home after Chemo and Gotham still felt a little too crowded since Bruce’s return, so he’d started to become more nomadic lately. Even if his home was _technically_ still the Manor - and that one NYC apartment he likes crashing at and spending the odd weekend with Babs - he now went wherever he was needed.

He was a traveling hero.

He liked that.

Which was why, three nights ago, when Vic had stumbled upon some weird shit in Michigan he’d turned to him. Asked him to swing by, take a look and report back. The rest of the Titans were deployed in other missions and Dick had been in Gotham for over a month already and the Manor had started to make him claustrophobic, so he’d agreed.

Mission had started a success, infiltration had gone according to plan.

_And then, there was today, or yesterday, really._

He’d already regretted leaving when he heard Duke tease Damian over his soulmate mark. His baby brother’s soulmate mark had presented and Dick hadn’t been able to be there.

He’d had to content himself with an image through a video call.

He’d cursed his luck as he continued his stakeout. He’d had to sit there, bored and depressed under Michigan’s inclement rain, when his comms beeped. Bruce’s voice had come in.

_‘Tim’s hurt, he’s in Thompson’s clinic. He’s stable.‘_

Dick was sure Bruce only told him because he knew Dick would cut off his balls and feed them to Titus if he’d had to hear the news from someone else, but when he’d pressed for more information, Bruce cut the line and he wasn’t able to get much more. Dick would have gone straight to Gotham, but the kidnapper he’d been trailing finally made a move, forcing him to bust the human trafficking pit-stop.

Not even the whole ring.

Just a place to stay in transit before crossing the border.

So, by the end of that night, Dick had been wet, he’d been worried and he’d been fucking pissed. By the time he managed to strip of his suit and set the plane in auto-pilot, he was ready to chop someone’s head off while repressing the pit of worry on his gut.

Batman had been on radio silence all night, and the only wisp of solace he managed to find was the knowledge that bad news would have reached him faster than good ones. So, hopefully, the worst case scenario would be that Tim remained _stable._

As he’d arrived in Gotham, Duke had contacted him and gave him a slightly longer rundown.

_Tim busted Deadshot’s contract._

_Deadshot poisoned him with Artificial K._

_Jason found him and brought Tim to Leslie’s_

_Deadshot slipped through the cracks and there was still no sign of him or the weapons._

On the bright side, three angry bats had landed _hard_ on Maroni’s criminal organization. He learned that Batman, Black Bat and Batgirl dealt one of the hardest blows against their empire in a single night. One of the hardest Gotham had seen from a Bat, not counting Jason’s takedowns back when he was still a trigger-happy revenge-fueled vigilante/drug-lord.

_Still._

Weapons, gone. Deadshot, gone.

Dick knew Bruce would be pissed.

And he knew that, because _he_ was pissed.

Perhaps a little happy too, since he might be able to be present when Deadshot was brought it.

He’d been surprised Jason hadn’t taken part of the takedown, but then Duke had told him he had been assigned to keep watch on the clinic, so Dick had imagined he’d stayed until Tim had been stabilized and then gone home, maybe bust some skulls on the way.

Which was why he’d been surprised to walk into Tim’s room and find Jason sitting on a metallic chair right next to the door, reading a book in his Red Hood suit, sans the helmet. He raised his head and acknowledge him with a nod.

“Hey, you’re here!” Dick said, earning himself a slightly long stare by Jason, and then he registered the fact that his boots were covered in dried mud, the clothes seemed oddly crumpled. Not to mention the fact that the book he was reading had a tag on the side with Leslie’s free clinic logo in it. “Wait, did you stay here all night?” he asked confused coming into the room.

Jason rolled his eyes before focusing back on the book, “ _Superb_ deductive skills, Dickie-Dick. And _still_ Ra’s refuses to call you ‘Detective’?” he said heavy with sarcasm. Dick huffed indignant and moved closer to Tim to look at him.

He looked… good…

As good as you can look in a hospital bed, anyway.

Other than a couple monitoring devices on the side and the IV line, he wasn’t too bad. He was breathing on his own and it seemed as if he was sleeping though his regular check-up.

A sight he’d seen a couple times, much to his enjoyment.

But, it wasn’t that. Tim wasn’t sleeping.

He was knocked out because he’d been poisoned.

“Anything?” he asked turning to look at Jason, who’d left the book on the side table and was looking at Tim with a weird expression in his face.

Jason grumbled before answering, “He’s slipping in and out. Not fully conscious yet.”

Dick bit his lips looking at Tim, trying to will him to wake up with his mind. “Alfie said anything?” he asked knowing the old man would surely be monitoring Tim from the Cave right now.

Jason shifted in his chair before answering, “Antidote should have worked its magic by now, so it’s probably the morphine keeping him down.”

_Tim is ok._

Dick hadn’t had time to sleep yet and the somewhat good news were enough to send a wave of relief over his body that almost knocked him out, the tiredness returning full force.

His relationship with Tim had improved after Bruce’s return, Tim’s consolidation as Red Robin, and their shared cohabitation at the Manor.

It had started odd, at first.

After rescuing Damian from Apokolips, Alfred had made _strong suggestions_ to all the children to move back in.

Dick already had a master bedroom there, it kind of came with his tenure as Batman, so he’d simply stayed; at first mainly for Damian, but then, he’d re-discovered the joys of being the big brother to the insane bunch of kids that had joined Bruce’s mission. And he still considered the Manor home… _Hero traveling aside…_

Jason had tried to reject the offer initially, but in the end, Alfie and Cass had managed to convince him to have a room and crash whenever the mission required it of him. It happened to be about two or three nights a week, but still.

Tim had moved back as well, initially to finish working the reinstatement of Bruce as the head of WE and the finalization of Batman Inc.’s insane amount of paperwork, which had taken over six weeks of constant work, and then he simply stayed there. Missions with the Titans took some of his time, but whenever he was in Gotham, the Manor was his home.

Cass had agreed readily at first, but soon enough she started spending more and more time in Hong Kong and she was the one who ended up sleeping away most of the time.

Duke, Steph, Babs and the three Fox kids also had rooms at the Manor, although they were sparsely used.

Dick thought back on this last year, it had been a nice one, probably the best one yet, since his early years.

Sure, their lives were absolutely _nuts_ and every other day someone was hurt; but things were looking up.

There was no dead sibling, nor a bloody revenge, nor some weird conspiracy. It was just _them_ , fighting the good fight.

Dick hoped this injury will follow the same pattern.

That Tim would wake up after a day in bed, spend one or two days on the bench, and then, business as usual.

He turned to look at Jason and was about to ask him if he wanted coffee or breakfast, when he saw the way he was laser focused on Tim’s face. Jason’s eyes were betraying a sense of hurt Dick hadn’t seen in him since Bruce came back and they’d patch up their relationship, a little bit.

Dick had found him in the library a couple hours later and he’d looked hurt, angry, happy and hopeful all at once.

‘ _Raw emotions_ ’, he had thought later that night, trying to put a word on the emotion on his Little Wing’s face.

And that was what he was seeing there, _raw emotions_. Towards Tim.

Dick remembered a part of Duke’s explanation and he clicked his tongue bringing Jason’s attention up to him. “You know it’s not your fault, right?” Dick said calmly trying not to stir anything with Jason. His touch must have been far off, though, if the way his eyes darkened and his face cleared of any emotion was any indication.

“Excuse me?” Jason said with his voice tight and sitting a little straighter in the chair closing the book, Dick moved closer and tried to put his hand on Jason’s arm.

“This it’s Deadshot’s fault, not yours,” he tried calmly noticing the storm brewing in Jason’s eyes.

Wrong move.

Jason growled under his breath and stared hard at him as he said, just a tad below threatening, “And you feel the need to clarify that, _because_ …?”

“I…” Dick shifted in his place, not exactly sure where his reassurance had gone wrong, probably Jason was already blaming himself and it was taking his statement as an accusation, “Duke mentioned something about you chasing Tim and arriving after Deadshot had already poisoned him,” he raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender before finishing “It looked like you were blaming yourself.”

Jason bristled and got up giving one last look at Tim before putting his helmet on. “I know where to place the blame, Dickface,” he said, with the helmet on, but without the voice modulator, so it was his brother still talking to him, “I let him slip away and now B let him slip too; so it’s my turn again to go after that asshole. I’ll make sure he knows you blame him too.”

He started walking towards the window, and Dick moved to stop him. “You can stay, you know, we can watch him together,” he offered, knowing that his relationship with Jason was still strained. And he also knew, that out of everyone in the Manor, he was Jason’s _second least_ favorite person.

And that _hurt_.

So he tried, but Jason didn’t even considered it. He kept moving past him as he said, “I’m done babysitting, so,” he placed his hand in his shoulder a little harder than necessary, before adding “Tag, you’re it.”

Dick chose to take that as a little reassurance that there was no hard feelings. That Jason was just leaving Tim _with_ him, not leaving Tim _because of_ him.

He hummed and Jason left after a small assurance that the coffee from the vending machine down the aisle was _drinkable_. He sighed and after a couple minutes went there and got himself two cups of coffee, a granola bar and some Chips Ahoy.

He was balancing all cups and packages when he entered the room. He placed everything in the bedside table and moved the chair to place it right next to Tim’s head, pointing at the TV, wondering briefly why Jason had sat so far away from Timmy.

And that’s when it happened.

Dick – as well as everyone in the family, really – liked to tease Tim regularly about his coffee consumption.

He remembered a week, not over three months ago, when Tim started getting sour and angry, snapping at anything and anyone, and having more and more headaches. It had everyone puzzled, until it became known that Damian had _somehow_ replaced all coffee in the house to decaf. Even Alfred had been baffled, and _that_ was saying something.

Dick was _sure_ Tim had never been so close to murder someone, as the moment Damian had confessed. Bruce might’ve too. He’d been livid when he heard of Damian’s little _prank_.

But still, it was Tim’s _thing_.

Coffee addiction.

Dick sometimes thought it was unwarranted, more of family exaggeration than something real.

Of course, there were little things that happened once every blue moon, which confirmed the family was right about Tim’s relation with coffee.

Like right now, when Tim woke up practically as soon as Dick opened the lid on his coffee cup.

Dick would have laughed, if he weren’t actually equal parts surprised and relieved. “Timmy?” he called softly placing a hand on his shoulder and Tim’s eyes went unfocused for a second before he blinked a couple times and really saw him, “Dick?”

Dick beamed at him “Gave us a scare, there, babybird,” he teased softly without any heat.

“S’rry” Tim muttered sighing laying down again on the bed, “What happened?”

“Not sure,” Dick answered honestly and this caused Tim to turn his head and look at him questioningly “Just arrived back to Gotham half an hour ago,” he clarified.

Tim looked confused for a second there, probably just now remembering Dick wasn’t supposed to be in Gotham. “Right. How did it go in Chicago?” he asked probably while he made his own mental and physical check, as they were all trained to do.

Dick gave him a couple of seconds by retelling the major lines of his mission. Once Tim seemed more aware and his eyes were open again, he asked the question that was burning in his throat “So?” he prompted and Tim sighed.

“Everything _feels_ fine _,_ ” and Dick let a breath out he wasn’t sure how long he’d been holding, “I’m fuzzy about how I got here, though… I remember being chased… something about Deadshot, and… _Shit!_ Dick, he had a Kryptonite weapon!” Tim tried to stand up suddenly remembering how he’d get there and Dick had to move carefully not to shower them both with hot coffee as he stopped Tim with a calm voice and a firm hand in his shoulder.

“I know, Artificial K, I think…” Dick saw Tim look at him expectantly, and he knew what he was about to ask and he cursed Jason for leaving him here like this.

Dick had no idea what to say.

“Well?” Tim asked annoyed “Did they recover them? He must have had at least 12…”

Dick sighed, “No idea, I just came in. I know Deadshot ran and I think he managed to take at least a couple with him,” he reported as best he could. Tim groaned and sank on the pillow and Dick had seen that look too many times, on too many young heroes. He could easily recognize that mix of shame, guilt and worry currently brewing in his brother’s eyes, along with the last waves of pain.

Dick sighed, rearranged the pillows to help Tim sit and handed him one of the coffee cups, which rewarded him with a bright smile of appreciation. He pressed the communicator on his ear and talked, “Nightwing here, Red just woke up. He seems to be fine…”

He heard at least two heavy breaths of relief and then Babs was talking on the line, apparently taking over Duke. Tim looked at him expectantly, but then he seemed to remember something because he signaled him for his spare comms. Dick fished it out of his pocket and gave it to him without much question.

“Hi,” Tim said, effectively cutting off Batman’s report, he seemed to notice as he cleared his throat before adding “Sorry, B. Ah… who’s online?”

Dick was about to reply when Babs cut him, “Hey, good to hear you, kiddo. Right now, Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing and yours truly.” Tim hummed his thanks, before Babs added “How are you?”

“I’m fine, really, just tired and a little out of it still,” he replied honestly, “Listen, you probably already have it, but I put a tracker on a red sedan that was overseeing the exchange,” he started trying to focus and Dick knew why he thought it was an important lead before he said it “That sedan dropped Deadshot and took off without him. I thought it was just an overseer, but in hindsight, it might have been the person handling Deadshot, probably someone high in the Family; most likely the person Deadshot might try to get in contact with, now that he’s on the wind. If you enter my system, you’ll find the tracker quite easily; it’s not much, but it’s something.”

Batman made a humming noise and Babs thanked him and disconnected with a quick, “Got it, I’ll check and report back”.

Tim seemed to calm a bit after that before addressing the more pressing issue. “Batman, what’s the status on the weapons?”

“Eight were recovered on the crash site,” he replied with his mission voice “According to Red Hood, Deadshot took two with him, and another two were recovered from the alley where they were making the exchange. I’m sending four of the recovered ones for analysis to different institutions and keeping the rest for safekeeping.” Dick nodded in agreement knowing it was the most sensible plan.

“Save one for me, I want to study it,” Tim said, and Dick knew it was equal parts guilt and technological curiosity that motivated Tim, and maybe a little bit of concern over the weapon.

If it was concern for his kryptonian ‘best friend’ or for himself as a target of the weapon, Dick wasn’t exactly sure.

Batman didn’t reply and Dick was certain he was going to refuse. Tim pressed him by calling his name and Batman hummed a non-committal sound before saying, “We’ll discuss it,” and adding “Anything else to report?”

It was Bat talk for ‘busy, we’ll talk later unless it’s important.’ Tim knew it, as he quickly said “No,” and Bats simply ordered, “Have Dr. Thompson check you and head to the Manor. Directly to the Manor. No detours.”

“Got it,” replied Tim.

“Yes Boss,” added Dick and he ended the conversation. He moved back and took his phone to message Dr. T, telling her Tim was up. He pocketed the phone and the extra comms Tim was handing him.

As he was pocketing it, a thought popped up in his mind.

Jason hadn’t spoken a word.

He was sure he’d heard his relieved sigh on the comms at the start of the conversation, but after Tim connected he’d stayed deadly silent. He looked down at Tim and frowned, “Did something happen with you and Jason?”

Tim looked at him confused for a second before shaking his head, “No, why?”

“He’s acting weird.” Dick answered thinking about his little wing’s behavior “He was here just before you woke up, he looked worried, but he bolted when I arrived; and just now, he was online but didn’t commented. It’s weird…” Jason was acting sketchy. He would have gone with guilty, but the reaction he’d gotten earlier was more like… it was a mixture of angry, worry and… Dick could almost identify that look he’d given Tim, but couldn’t exactly place it.

Tim shook his head looking at him confused “No, I… I don’t think I’ve seen him since…” he hummed in thought and then he almost groaned, “ _Right_. The Cave… when you were teasing Damian.”

Dick smiled remembering about that, “Oh, right! He’s got his soulmark!” he grinned brightly, before looking at Tim’s staring at him before rolling his eyes, Dick chuckled at his baby brother, “Come on, kiddo, you have no idea what it’s like, once your soulmark presents you’ll realize, there’s nothing quite like it…”

Tim was now the only person in the family who hadn’t presented his soulmark, which meant he was weird and sketchy about it. For a time there, Dick had been certain he would present with Stephanie, but they hadn’t. Instead, Steph’s and Cass’ had matched and presented nearly a year and a half ago.

Duke had already had a mark by the time he’d come to the Manor, though he said he didn’t know who it belonged to. It was a weird occurrence, to have a soulmark without knowing who your soulmate is.

Soulmarks normally presented to people who knew each other, who’d shared a bond. The soulmark was considered the consolidation of that bond.

Dick’s favorite explanation of soulmarks was the one about the shared destiny.

His mother had told him that when God created the Earth, he gave humans the ability to forge their own destiny. But God knew that humans were fragile, precious creatures; and that the destiny they would forge for themselves would take them through hard and treacherous paths. So he gave each human a bond to a soul that would share their will and destiny, to give each human the strength and the love they would needed to achieve it.

Soulmarks appeared when two souls with a shared will, meet and decide on a destiny together.

That’s what soulmates were; God’s gift to humanity, to ensure each person has the love, the support and the strength to be their best version of themselves.

Of course, there’s also the scientific approach, which calls the soulmark _an_ _epigenetic change in DNA sequencing caused by environmental conditioning and hormonal activation_. Which, honestly, didn’t sound nearly as romantic as Dick thought soulmates should be.

But, that leaves out people who have a soulmark without meeting their soulmates, like Duke – and Jason, now that he thinks about it – who were considered medical anomalies.

Though in all honesty, in Jason’s case the medical community would probably be more interested in the ‘coming back to life’ part rather than the ‘doesn’t have a soulmate’ part.

According to some stories, mateless soulmarks appear when your soulmate has gone through a terrifying experience and it affects them enough to activate their marks.

A sort of beacon to call their soulmates to find them.

Duke was kind of ok with it. He was taking the whole soulmate thing with a very pragmatic approach, choosing not to worry about it, since there’s little he can do.

“Yeah, sure,” Tim said rolling his eyes and Dick was brought back to the conversation. He looked at his brother and thought that Tim probably agrees with the loveless definition of the scientific community.

“I know you don’t believe this, but there’s something pure about the idea of having a right person for you, Timmy. You’ll see,” he said smiling at him.

Tim rose an eyebrow, “Right? How is it going with you and Babs, again?” the _little shit_ asked him and Dick touched his chest wounded at the knife sent by his baby brother, straight to the heart.

_Oh, the pain, the treason…_

“We’re fixing it,” he huffed indignant, “And before you say anything, this right here…” he said pointing at his heart, where the small sun surrounded by birds was engraved in his skin. “It gives me hope we will, eventually,” Dick said and Tim smiled softly, instead of rolling his eyes or huffing like he usually did whenever Dick talked about soulmates.

He caressed his skin once more before turning and grabbing his snacks and share them with Timmy while waiting for Dr. T.

The wait gave him a chance to circle back his thoughts on Jason, his Little Wing.

Jason hadn’t had a soulmark back when he was a kid. He remembered hearing him once, talking about it with Alfred, excited about a novel he was reading. Going on about how the protagonist had presented at the worst possible time.

Jason was ranting about how it was such a bittersweet moment, because the moment you presented was supposed to be the happiest moment in your life, and it had happened as she was about to be forced into a loveless marriage.

That had been the moment Dick had decided he actually liked Jason.

That had also been six months before Joker killed him.

After he came back, he already had a mark.

Dick had thought for a long time the mark had appeared during the lost years he’d had between digging himself from a grave and coming back to Gotham, but Jason had confided him – or rather, he’d blurted it out to shut him up – that the mark had actually been there since he’d woken up.

That he’d never met his soulmate and had no idea who they were.

He was like Duke in that aspect, except, he was the opposite.

He had been the soulmate that had suffered the life altering event.

And his soulmate had probably presented already, as a reaction to his death.

He’d thought about it. About someone out there with a soulmark that had presented, only to turn white, and then re-color itself as Jason was brought back to life.

He would have heard about it.

Bizarre stories like that tend to call on media attention. Which made it doubly weird that he hadn’t heard about it.

Dr. T arrived at the room before he had time to dwell on that and he was kicked out while she checked on Tim.

Dick decided to use the time to forward all the intel to Vic while also arranging everything so he could stay a couple days in Gotham.

He wanted to say with Tim, he wanted to be here to help capture Deadshot, and he had a feeling a couple days with Babs wouldn’t hurt either of them, nor their prospects for a future relationship.


	4. Chapter 4

_Ten things…_

_Ok. Let’s try it…_

  1. _I could have waited for Black Bat instead of taking the guys down solo._
  2. _I could have canvased the area more thoroughly instead of just putting a tracker on the sedan._
  3. _I could have put a camera on the back to cover my blind spot._
  4. _I could have had the mic open all the time, so everyone knew about Deadshot from the beginning._
  5. _I could have waited for Red Hood instead of trying to avoid him._
  6. _I could have taken any street other than the Fifth to avoid the heavy traffic._
  7. _I could have hit the brakes before being rammed by the school bus the second time._
  8. _I could have jumped off the armored truck as I was falling into the house._
  9. _I could have set an electric booby trap as soon as I was off the armored truck, instead of just staying there trying to call for back up._
  10. _I could have launched a pre-emptive strike on Deadshot as soon as I saw him down on the sewer, instead of teasing him and giving him an opening to use the weapon._



There.

Easy.

Ten things he could have done differently and each one of those could have prevented the outcome.

_And that was just with a minute and a half of thinking._

If he’d actually waited and _planned_ , he could have avoided this.

He could have avoided it and right now he wouldn’t be living the after effects of K-poisoning while chasing down weapons that could kill his best friend.

Actually, not just him. Four of the most important people in his family’s lives, in _his life_ , were in mortal danger because he had been _stupid_ enough to let himself get hit by Deadshot.

_‘I rather be markless’_

That _fucking sentence_ had unsettled him enough to reduce his mental prowess. Tim knew he wasn’t a brawler or a scrapper. He was a _detective_. He was _supposed_ to come up with scenarios that gave him the advantage, even if he wasn’t physically superior to his opponents.

But that night his mind had been divided: _Tim_ had been too much of a hindrance and _Red Robin_ had been too fucking full of himself to realize it.

And now, his best friend might pay the price.

He huffed angrily and tossed the tablet where he’d been reviewing the body-cam recording of that night. It all had been over in 12 minutes flat. 12 minutes in which he’d done over 30 mistakes, most of them easily avoided.

If he had just been _smart_.

If he had just taken a second or two to **_think_**.

If he had taken a second to recognize how _fucking compromised_ he was.

And now it’s been two days.

Two days since Artificial K weapons arrived in Gotham.

Two days, and the Bats still had nothing. _Zilch. Zero. Nada._

No weapons, no Deadshot, no Maroni, no testimony, no witnesses.

The trail was officially cold.

The Bats were on alert, but not actively searching any more. Superman had taken over the Artificial K angle, the Justice League had been deployed to check for the supplier.

And, _he_ had been banned from being near the A-K weapons in the Cave until they were sure contact with Artificial K wouldn’t worsen _his condition_.

_His condition_ , being the fact that he had almost no energy.

His body was spending all off its energy in fighting off the poisoning and it was taking everything in him just to stay awake and coherent. That first morning, he’d fallen asleep exhausted after Dr. T’s 10-minute check. Then, the trip to the Manor had sent him to sleep nearly 8 hours.

And now, being awake and checking on the videos had started to take a toll on him.

He stood up and walked to the bathroom, deciding a shower might be just what he needed to get rid of the tiredness.

Tim entered the large bathroom and took off his clothes slowly, trying not to exhaust his muscles. He opened the faucet and let the water come to temperature.

Walking back to grab a sponge and one of the towels, he caught a glimpse of the full length mirror and his eyes were immediately drawn to the mark on his hip. He sighed as he walked back into the stream of water feeling his muscles relax under it.

It had surprised him to learn it had been _Jason_ who had saved him. He’d been sure seeing him down there had been a trick of the light.

Although, if he was being honest with himself, it shouldn´t surprise him.

Jason might be an asshole to him about their mark… and he might have tried to kill him on occasion… but since coming back to the family their relationship had changed a lot. He was slowly becoming more like the _idea of Jason_ he’d dreamt about while training to be Robin.

Jason had been his very first hero crush. Dick had been _too_ _shiny_ , _too_ _big_ of a star back when Tim was a kid, he hadn’t felt anything other than awe and admiration for the acrobat turned vigilante.

_Jason_ , on the other hand… He’d felt _close_ to him.

Tim had seen him struggle to fill Dick’s shoes. He’d seen him taking care of the people. He’d seen his eagerness, his anger, his protectiveness and his viciousness. He had seen a lot from behind his camera lens. But, above everything else, he’d seen a _human_. Not a Hero. Not a mask. Robin had suddenly become _human._ Years later, while Tim was training to become _the next Robin_ , he ended up falling for that _image_.

Jason had also been his first heartbreak. His dead had hurt him and the effects of that death had rang deeply in his soul, enough to make him seek out Dick and then put on the cape.

Years later, Jason had also become the first person Tim had truly, honestly, thought was going to kill him in cold blood.

And now, he was his soulmate, one that had rejected him without giving them a chance.

A couple years ago, back when he was first coming to terms with being mated to Jason, Tim had decided Jason _rejecting him_ had nothing to do with Tim, it was only Jason having gone crazy from the Pit _._ He had gone mad from the Pit and it caused him to lash at his soulmate.

Then, when he had realized Jason had made the conscious decision _not_ to kill him, he’d felt a little hope, but that was quickly crushed by that savage beating he’d gotten not too long after helping him escape.

So, he tried to think it was better for him that Jason didn’t wanted him, as he was still a raging drug-lord with a vigilante agenda. Tim was _fine_ being rejected by someone like that.

He hadn’t, honestly.

He’d nearly gone over the edge because of it.

But he’d learnt to be **_fine_** with it.

Then came the detox.

Tim saw the glimpses of Jason behind the Red Hood. Tim had agreed to let bygones be bygones and after a very cathartic kick to the balls, he’d let himself be closer to Jason. In hindsight, that had been a mistake. A horrible mistake.

Slowly, Tim came to see all the things he wanted in a soulmate slip through the Red Hood persona. Had Tim let down his guard during those years he would have fallen hard for Jason… _hard **er.**_ Between getting Bruce back, creating Batman Inc., rescuing Damian, destroying Batman Inc. and now living together, Jason had become _something_ to him, despite all the assassination attempts.

His caustic sense of humor, his fluid fighting style, his _no day like today_ outlook in life, his focus on civilians, children and poor people; people that Tim and Bruce sometimes tend to overlook, focusing on the _bigger picture_.

Tim had been forced to recognize he wasn’t _fine_ with being rejected.

He wasn’t sure what Jason saw in him that made him unsuitable as a soulmate and he’d decided too long ago not to consider the question, but as his stay on the Manor prolonged, as their interactions increased, the question had buried itself in Tim’s mind and it was driving him mad.

He refused to call it a crush, screw what Bart might think. He was just a fucking sadist, who enjoys torturing himself, spending time with a man who keeps digging the knife deeper and deeper.

Jason had made his thoughts about them being soulmates pretty clear.

And, even if Tim might be able to overlook the attempts on his life when looking at _Jason_ , he couldn’t stop the deep aching in his bones that came from knowing _his soulmate_ had actually tried to kill him, not once, but twice.

And that he’d beat him near unconsciousness more times than that.

_Jason_ – the reformed Bat, the brother, the _crush_ – was someone Tim wanted to be close to.

Jason – _the soulmate_ – was someone Tim had to avoid. For his own sanity.

He was someone that _could_ _hurt_ him. He’s someone that _constantly hurts_ him.

And he thought he’d been able to manage the difference, but now…

The mess with Deadshot had been proof that Jason was getting in too deep. Tim had to do something.

 

_Though, not right now._

 

Right now, he had to get out of the shower and into some dry clothes, because his fingers were starting to wrinkle.

He moved out to exit the bathroom through the walk-in closet and put a pair of Gotham U sweatpants and a hoodie, planning on going through some very simple energy katas before Tam came over. He’d ask her to meet him to check on all the WE work he’ll have to ditch in order to recover, and to come up with a good cover. And God knows, he _has_ to take care of that; because for all the good she does for WE, Tam sucks at handling the press.

His plan, though, was completely interrupted by the appearance of a shadow on the window on his bedroom. He turned and saw _his_ _soulmate_ enter through it.

Tim closed his eyes and tried to control himself. An exercise in restraint he’d becoming more and more adept at.

“Jason,” he greeted him in his _Timothy_ voice. Not confrontational, artificially warm. It was the kind of voice he used in public and it was the one he’d taken to use around Jason, not wanting to risk lowering his wards around him. It was enough having his hip itch uncomfortably around him.

He was pretty certain if he ended up acting on their bond, he’ll find himself with a new bullet hole; or a couple stab wounds, if Jason was feeling particularly savage.

_He doesn’t care about our bond. He made it blatantly clear. He’ll rather go mad than being my soulmate._

Tim had to repeat that mantra in his mind. Jason had proven he could hurt his soulmate without regard for his own sanity. Tim couldn’t risk…

“Hey, pretty bird,” Jason said and the mock name felt like a stab on his hip. His mark itched painfully again and Tim was about to roll his eyes when Jason froze for a fraction of a second, before starting to backtrack his greeting, “Well, maybe not _pretty_ with all the…” Jason muttered and Tim looked at him feeling confusion sweeping under his skin. “So, how’s the… everything?” Jason finished lamely, looking at everything _but_ him.

Tim focused his gaze on Jason.

Jason, who didn’t seem to know _how_ to talk to him.

Jason, who looked uncomfortable and was standing by the window, as if he was ready to bolt any second.

Dick’s comment yesterday came back to him. _Jason was acting weird…_

He is.

Jason normally called him _pretty bird_ , without much thought. It was his most commonly used nickname, having dethroned _Replacement_ and the several colorful variations of the word. Tim was certain the ‘ _pretty bird_ ’ was both a jab at their mark and had something to do with the fact that he was the leanest, less intimidating _Robin_ …

Well, the leanest, less intimidating _male Robin_ , Steph was leaner and less intimidating than him…

_Ok, maybe just leaner… she’s really intimidating…_

_Anyway…_

Jason always called him _pretty bird_ , which up until now he thought it was a derogatory moniker aimed at carving a piece of their soulmate bond. Slowly and surely degrading it, hoping it broke.  

Not that it could, soulmate bonds were lifelong.

But now he’d corrected himself… Jason backtracked. He said Tim wasn’t pretty _‘now’_ … Which, Tim was sure, Jason shouldn’t have to clarify unless he _actually_ considered Tim to be pretty on a normal basis…

…

And _that_ was something Tim was _NOT_ going to consider right now.

Absolutely not.

Even less so, with Jason looking at him expectantly and standing twenty feet away.

“Fine. Still dizzy, but, I should be up and running in a couple days,” he replied honestly, focusing on Jason as he hummed and looked at him before walking deeper into the room, moving away from the window, as if deciding the room was a safe place. Tim could swear the base of his neck was red… almost like a flush… he shook those thoughts away as he continued talking, walking up to the bed, now feeling awkward himself. “Working on tracking the weapons. Artificial K weapons can’t be left unattended.”

Jason moved to the border of the bed and Tim felt himself fidget at how Jason’s gaze lingered on him and he could swear Jason’s eyes stopped just for a second on his hip.

Tim had to fight hard not to twitch over that.

Jason seemed to snap out of whatever had him entranced and he gave him a wink as he said, “Of course you are, wouldn’t want _that_ near your Super Boy-toy, huh?”

Tim broke his gaze from Jason and rolled his eyes, remembering his conversation with Kon earlier that morning, “Yeah… You would think he would _get_ that, right?” he ranted, feeling a little vindicated that Jason shared his concern over Kon being near those _things_ and, honestly, just trying to clear his mind from Jason’s weird greeting, “Tried telling him to stay away a couple hours ago, when he started pestering about coming to check on me. Didn’t take the news too well.”

_Now, that’s an understatement._

First, Kon had been worried about him, telling him he was coming to Gotham. When Tim told him about the weapons, he dismissed them in a blasé attitude that had Tim annoyed, so he insisted Kon stayed in Metropolis or San Francisco. Then, Kon realized Tim was serious and he got offended, then angry, and finally, offended again.

Tim had been too tired to fight a bull-headed half kryptonian, so he’d hang up on him, which meant he was probably angry, _again_.

He’ll deal with it later, when there weren’t any unaccounted weapons that could kill Kon anywhere in a 500 mile radius from Gotham.

Jason hummed and he was biting his lip with a frown on his face, before saying a curt “I imagine.” Tim rose an eyebrow at that. Jason was definitively acting weird and his next words confirmed it. “Give him a break, Timbo. He’s your boyfriend, he’s allowed to be worried.”

Tim rolled his eyes, deciding not to play along with it this time. Seriously, it was getting old and Kon had started to give him weird looks because of it. “You _do_ know he’s not _actually_ my boyfriend, right?” he said and was a little surprised at how Jason’s head perked up, evidently surprised at that tidbit of information. Tim wanted to laugh. “Seriously? Jason, you were the one who went and started the rumor, please tell me you didn’t _actually_ ended up believing it.”

Jason hummed at that looking at him and his lips twitched, hinting at a smile and Tim wasn’t sure if he was pulling his leg, but then, he was serious and contemplative again. They both stayed there for a second, Tim looking at Jason trying to read his face and Jason frowning at the floor, as if willing himself to do something, which was… _odd._

Jason was acting weird.

_It’s almost as if he was… of Kon…_

Tim discarded that thought. Though, in all honesty, if Tim had been a foreign spectator on their conversation, and if Jason _wasn’t Jason_ , Tim could have sworn _that_ _tone_ and _that_ _face_ just a second ago screamed _jealousy_.

Poorly concealed jealousy.

But that couldn’t be…

Almost as if he’d jolted awake, Jason moved closer almost standing at a touching distance and Tim had to try really hard not to scratch his soulmark as Jason practically sat on the same bed as him.

“So, speaking of it…” Jason said, obviously uncomfortable, “The, uhm, the attack, not the _boyfriend_ ,” he clarified and Tim nodded not really following the line of thought that joined the two together “I had to apply the initial antidote…”

Jason seemed to want to say something more, but he was looking at Tim, as if expecting an answer… which was odd because there was no question there, just a narration of what had happened.

“Yeah, right! Thanks for that, I… I really owe you one,” Tim said unsure, deciding to go with a gut feeling that Jason maybe wanted a favor and needed him to know he was owed, but then Jason muttered a soft _‘Don’t mention_ _it’_  that confused him all over again.

“What’s going on?” he asked, really not following where this was going.

Jason sighed closing his eyes and steeling himself and Tim sat on the bed, sensing whatever this was about, it was serious. “The antidote, I had to inject it. On your hip,” he said looking directly at his hip, right where his mark was. Tim had to swallow hard, he didn’t liked where this conversation was going. “I… saw… your mark,” Jason said and he looked… _ashamed?_

Tim froze there looking at Jason confused… _What was going on?_ Jason had seen their mark, so? Why was he acting all skittish?

Tim had to blink twice as a thought came to his mind. His soulmark… Dick telling him Jason had acted weird, worried…  And now, he was glancing at his soulmark.

_Our soulmark._

Tim felt a knot on his throat.

_Could Jason be acting out of character after seeing his soulmate nearly die in front of him?_

Tim kicked any emotion out of him as that idea crossed his mind.

_If that’s what’s bothering him, then he can go fuck himself._

If the man in front of him was not Jason the brother, the Bat, but Jason _the soulmate_ ; then Tim didn’t want to be near him.

Jason had made his thoughts of _them_ as soulmates crystal clear. He had shown that near death experiences didn’t change his mind. It certainly hadn’t bothered him when _he_ had been the one trying to slash his throat. Or when he left him to die in that cave.

Or the couple of times _he’d_ beat him to a pulp.

So he didn’t had any business acting weird if _someone else_ did it…

He’d derided their soulmark and their bond and he’d told him, in no uncertain terms, that he didn’t wanted anything to do with soulmates.

_He cannot just come in here and expect-_

Tim stopped thinking as Jason rolled up his sleeve and took of the leather brace he always carried covering his soulmark. He turned his arm and showed it to Tim effectively shutting any thought in Tim’s brain. “I… We match. I thought you deserved to know.” A part of Tim took notice that Jason’s hands were shaking, but he focused on the mark itself.

Tim felt time freeze as he was drawn by the marking on Jason’s wrist, Tim’s eyes were completely fixed on the sight of the two birds flying.

The birds he’d only seen before on his hip.

The mark that kept burning and itching every time Jason was near him.

_Our soulmark._

Tim noticed how the mark made a lot more sense in Jason’s wrist. The birds in his hip seemed to be flying aimlessly, but _here,_ in Jason’s wrist he could see how their design followed Jason’s veins. The birds followed the muscles in his arm and the tendons seemed to work seamlessly with the design, making the birds almost come to life in a chase.

And then the words Jason said registered in his mind.

_You deserved to know…_

It almost sounded like Jason expected Tim to be ignorant about it. Which was…

_How could I **not** know?_

They’d spend so much time around each other, they’d had such a history around them that it made it almost impossible for Tim _not_ to know.

A part of him wanted to be indignant about Jason’s assumption, but that part was silenced when the rest of the conversation and Jason’s weird attitude came back to his mind.

His skittishness, his worry, his **jealousy**.

_‘I saw your mark…’_ he’d said. As if it had been a revelation … As if…

_But that’s impossible_ …

“You didn’t knew?” he blurted out snapping his head up to look at Jason confused.

Tim tried to think of another reason, another scenario that justified… But… It couldn’t be…

Jason almost jumped at his sudden movement but then his head tilted and his brow furrowed, “What?” he asked.

And that was enough to confirm Tim’s suspicion.

“I thought you already knew. I…” Tim looked at Jason and in a second he tried to calm his heart as he looked back to reevaluate all his interactions with Jason over the past three years.

“Wait a minute… You _knew_ we are soulmates?!” Jason asked looking at him dumbfounded and Tim nodded looking at him surprised as well, his mind reeling to catch up with the fact that _Jason **didn’t fucking knew** … _

It suddenly became painfully clear they had never, not once, recognized or addressed each other as soulmates. _Never._ It had always been indirect comments. Incisive derisions. Tangents on conversations meant to hurt and carve pieces of their bond…

It had been so _fucking_ _obvious,_ Tim hadn’t considered, not even for just for a second, the possibility of Jason not knowing.

_How the fuck could you **not know**?_

_“How the fuck did you know?! I never take of this **thing** off_,” Jason yelled showing the leather strip that, true enough, always covered his wrist.

Tim bit his lip, he couldn’t exactly tell him he’d peeked once, to confirm his suspicion, but he went with the obvious answer. “Well, for starters, my mark itches whenever you’re near me!” he yelled and he was surprised his voice sounded so high… nearly hysterical… But… Come on!!

How could he have missed the fucking tingling in his skin _every time they were together in a room_?

It was a common occurrence. It is supposed to be a good sign, it’s supposed to help people identify their soulmate, even if you don’t see their mark.

  _How the hell had Jason missed that?_

“Plus I did the math, it appeared when you were resurrected,” he added, also truthfully, a little more controlled.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jason asked looking hurt and Tim felt a knot tie itself on his throat.

“ _I thought you knew!_ ” he yelled, but saying that out loud brought Tim’s mind up to speed and he looked dumbfounded at Jason. “ _Fuck_ , Jason! How could you **_not_** _know_?” he asked hurt, looking at his supposed soulmate. The soulmate that had derided him, that had rejected him. The one that had tried to _kill him_. Tim felt his eyes prickle at that and he growled before he had any time to catch his tongue “You fucking tried to **_kill me_** _, Jason,_ didn’t it fucking _burn_ every time you tried?”

Jason recoiled at that, he physically moved back, away from him and Tim had to bit his lip not to blurt out an apology seeing the hurt and betrayal in Jason’s eyes.

It was true enough, though.

Killing your soulmate was supposed to be a heinous crime. The pain from losing a soulmate was only surpassed by the pain of being the cause of their death. Tim had found more than one case of soulmates going crazy with the pain of having killed their soulmates.

_Fuck, half of Arkham patients were soulmate killers._

It was half the reason Bruce had decided to send Jason there, because he’d tried to kill _him_ , his soulmate.

Tim had disagreed and released him because he’d recognized the difference between an assassination and an assassination _attempt_.

Because Jason had restrained himself from crossing that line.

Except he _hadn’t_.

Because he hadn’t known he’d tried to kill his soulmate.

Because he hadn’t known Tim was his soulmate.

_Jason **hadn’t fucking known** …_

And, quite honestly, Tim wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that information. It didn’t… It didn’t quite fit with…

“I… I was sure you knew…” Tim said closing his eyes to prevent the world from tilting and suddenly the effort of sitting was too much for his weakened body, so he dropped on the mattress. “I thought maybe that’s why you… I thought, with all the talk about _being markless_ and not wanting to be _with your soulmate_ … You never talked about _finding_ them, or _wanting to know._ Just about being markless, about not _being with them_ … _with **me**_. I-I thought… you already knew.”

He knew he was rambling and he looked at Jason asking for an answer, but the boy looked so lost.

Tim surprised himself thinking of Jason as a boy, but he’d never looked as young as he did right now, with his soulmark bare and his face free of masks.

His surprise, hurt and confusion patent in his eyes.

His big blue/greenish orbs trailed on his face, obviously trying not to get lost in a whirlwind of emotions.

Tim thought he might be looking the same, and he moved to try and grab Jason’s hand to-

His movement was aborted by two strong knocks on the door. He moved away and Jason all but jumped to the seat on the other side of the bed, as he wrapped the leather strip on his wrist with an ease that came from years of practice.

_Practice of hiding his soulmark…_

Alfred came into the room without waiting for any confirmation and addressed him directly “Master Timothy. Miss Tamara Fox is here for you, she... Master Jason-?” he trailed off confused at seeing Jason sitting there, in Tim’s room, but he simply nodded at him in greeting, before moving his eyes back to Tim “Shall I lead her to your office?”

It took him two full seconds to realize what Alfred was talking about. He remembered the meeting, and WE, and the _press_...

_Fuck._

“Right! No, not the office. Could you show her here? Thanks, Alfie,” he replied and Alfred narrowed his eyes at both of them for a fraction of a second before nodding at each of them and leaving. As soon as he left, a heavy atmosphere set in, Tim tried to divert his brain from any pathway that might lead back to the previous conversation, and found it was way too hard with Jason in the room, so he turned to look at him, “Jason-”

Before he had a chance to have another word out, Jason stood and pointed at the window. “Leave? Yeah, I’ll… Yeah…” Jason all but ran and jumped off the window, obviously trying to get as far away from the conversation as Tim wanted to…

Tim wished he could do the same, but he couldn’t, so groaning he stood up to put something slightly more formal to receive Tam in, but he didn’t manage to move without going over this sudden revelation.

He was going to have to reevaluate all his interactions with Jason.

All the pointed glares.

All the snarky remarks.

All the pain from being rejected, unwanted…

All of it had been in his fucking head all this time.

Because Jason, _stupid, clueless Jason_ hadn’t been able to figure out he was his soulmate.

He sighed when Tam knocked on the door and Tim realized he’d barely made it out of the bed, lost in thought, and still dressed in sweatpants.

He just _knew_ he wasn’t going to be able to focus today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I look forward to your comments about the story.
> 
> Love,  
> Mari


	5. Chapter 5

He hung up after agreeing to Tam’s course of action for justifying his injury.

In the end, he had to leave the strategy and the press to Tam. He had to. Even if he has to fake another engagement. He didn’t had the mental power to deal with anything while also having to steer his mind off Jason.

He’d tried.

Yesterday, after he and Tam left. Then all night and then today, all day.

It hadn’t happen.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Jason.

Jason, who somehow had missed the very obvious signs that linked them together as soulmates.

Jason, who just _three days ago_ had discovered he was his soulmate after finding him half dead.

Jason, who, upon discovering _that_ , had become jealous over Kon, concerned about his well-being and honest enough to come clean and show him his soulmark.

_Our soulmark._

Seeing it in Jason’s wrist, seeing it _make_ _sense_ , had twisted something in his gut he was nowhere near ready to digest. And for the second or third time in his life, he wanted… No, he _needed_ to talk to someone about his soulmate.

Problem was, he had no one to talk to.

_Not true_ , he had tons of people. Just no one who would _get it._

Bruce was out of the question by a matter of principle. He was _not_ discussing his and Jason’s soulmark with _Bruce_. Same with Alfred.

Dick was also a clear no. While his brother was probably a sane choice, he didn’t knew about him and Jason yet. He still believes Tim to be markless and the hassle of having to explain from the beginning was too much.

He briefly considered Duke, but honestly, they weren’t that close yet. And soulmarks and soulmates was somewhat of an odd conversation with a mateless marked man.

_There’s Damian…_

_…_

_Yeah, no…_

He _could_ go to Babs, Cass or Steph. They would be excellent choices for different reasons. Except… Well, Tim would feel more comfortable talking about this with a guy. Call him what you want, but, there are things Tim does not talk about with a woman. There are some things he can get off his chest more easily with a guy. And he’s pretty sure women feel the same.

At least, Steph does. She has kicked him off her room a lot of times only with a curt “Girl Talk” for an answer. So yeah, he wants to talk about his soulmate but he wants it to be a “Boy Talk”.

Tim bit his lip considering his options and finally giving up to reality. He’s known since the beginning of his digression -well over half an hour ago- exactly who he wants to talk to.

He needs to meet up with Kon and Bart.

He’s talked willingly about soulmates about two or three times in his life, all of which had been to Kon and Bart. They knew everything about him and Jason. Except that they don’t, because they, like Tim, had operated under the assumption that Jason _knew_.

And Tim would gladly go to his two best friends, except… Well, Kon was mad at him and Tim didn’t wanted to leave Gotham while the guns were still out there. And there was also the tiny issue of him being on _bed rest_ , even if the tiredness had subsided substantially already.

He hummed trying to decide on a plan as he skimmed through the information on his Red Robin tablet. His eyes had immediately gone to the status icons. Every family member was online. Everyone except Jason.

He’d been offline since their “talk”.

Tim had no problem in admitting to himself he had been obsessively refreshing the status icon to see if he’d somehow missed him, but Jason had been offline. _Offline_ right now translated to ‘ _not in Bat-channels’_ , because he knows that Jason’s been going out and busting skulls. Quite literally if Babs is to be believed. _And, honestly, when is she not?_

Tim dropped the tablet on the mattress and sighed. Everyone was busy, following threads, keeping Gotham safe, while he was going crazy _not thinking_ about Jason and not doing anything else in the meantime.

He scoffed and decided to do something other than simmering in his thoughts. He decided to go down to the Cave. He knew Bruce was there and he knew he’ll be reprimanded for being up, but he honestly didn’t care. He needed to do something. He needed to occupy his mind.

It was times like this that made him realize how bad it must be for Bart whenever he was forced to take a couple days off. No wonder he ends up reading dictionaries and picking up books on everything.

Thinking of Bart made an idea pop in his mind.

_He could…_

Deciding on a heartbeat, Tim fished his phone and called Bart. The phone rang three times before Bart’s energized voice came through, “Rob! Dude, how are you? I heard you were hit or something? I don’t really know, Kon was trying to tell me, but he was pretty much ranting by the time I got there so-”

“I’m fine, Bart,” Tim replied cutting Bart before he could go through one of his tangents. “Are you busy?” he asked out of habit and smiled a little as Bart immediately scoffed.

“Oh, _please!_ I’m a speedster! I’m _never_ busy,” Bart replied, as he always did whenever someone suggested he might not have _time_. “What’s going on?”

“I need a lift. Gotham to San Francisco. Carrying some sensitive cargo,” Tim said, as he started the descent to the Cave.

“ _Oh?_ Why don’t you just take the plane?” Bart asked, evidently confused. Tim got why. He always took the plane to the Tower, but this time he _is_ technically benched and he was supposed to be resting, so Bruce would probably cancel any _unauthorized_ access to the plane. He _could_ try to hack his way around Bruce’s commands, but he preferred Bruce didn’t know just how many of his JL protocols Tim could override.

At least not if he could avoid it.

“I might be trying to sneak out of the Manor…” he answered softly, not wanting to be overheard.

“Everything OK?” Bart asked, and he heard a change in the background noise, it sounded much quieter and Tim was willing to bet Bart had ran to a secluded spot in case sensitive information was to be exchanged.

“Yeah, no worries,” he replied quickly cutting off whatever scenarios were popping up in Bart’s overactive imagination. “Just tired of being cooped up in my room and maybe trying to chill with you and Kon.”

“God, please, yes!” Bart exclaimed and it made Tim’s eyebrow rise immediately, and if it weren’t impossible, Tim would have thought Bart saw it, because he started clarifying his outburst “Kon’s been insufferable. I mean, really, I appreciate he doesn’t like fighting with us, but it gets a little…”

Oh, yeah. Tim got _that_.

Kon might be bull-headed and a royal pain in the ass when he wants to, but he values friendship and family over anything else. He’s loyal and he hates with a passion having to fight with friends or family, so whenever they fight, he gets moody and explosive.

Tim’s had to suffer it too, whenever Kon and Bart fight; which, thankfully is almost never, since the two of them are both quite easy-going. Plus, Kon _is_ Bart’s mom, so he can’t really stay mad at him for more than two minutes.

“So, is that a yes to a pick-up?” he replied feeling the smile on his face.

“Sure, 15 minutes?” Bart asked, and Tim made a mental timetable.  He’d expected Bart to take 30 minutes or longer… it will be tight, but…

Yeah, he can make it work…

“Yep, come straight to the Cave,” he instructed, and Bart hung up with a short _‘See ya!’_

_So, we’re GO on Project Reckless._

Tim looked at his phone for half a second before darting back to his room and grabbing his pre-packed emergency suitcase. One Red Robin suit, one business suit, some basic civilian clothes, cash, a basic medic kit and a satellite phone. All neatly packed in an 18-inch wheeled Kevlar-lined travel suitcase. Suitable for commercial airplane carry-on as it fooled X-ray machines.

He had five of those and he rotated them often.

He ran downstairs and went back to the Cave entrance. He hid his suitcase in a small stone alcove by the exit, the one he knew Bart would use to come in. He needed to hide it so the Bat couldn’t see the suitcase before Tim wanted him to. Bruce would read his intention immediately and his escape attempt would end before it even starts.

He walked down towards the main computer checking to the left, where he knew the lead-lined rooms were. Where all the Kryptonite stuff was stored. He had a similar lab on Titan’s Tower. The lab were, if this goes well, he will be able to test the Artificial-K gun.

_This_ is what he needs to keep his mind off Jason.

He sighed, trying to focus, but then he saw a wrench on his plan. A wrench that was currently tapping absently at a machine while looking bored out of her mind. A wrench with blonde hair and green eyes.

Stephanie Brown, in all her black and purple ( _Eggplant!_ ) glory, was currently standing right in the middle of the main computer of the Batcave.

_Fuck._

Tim hadn’t accounted for having to deal with someone other than Bruce. Let alone someone who could read him emotionally.

He could lie to Bruce more easily than he could lie to Steph.

_‘That’s an ex-girlfriend’s secret power: to cut through a guy’s bullshit’_ she’d said to him once, after he complained about it. Tim sighed and tried to come up with a reason and a strategy to keep Steph out of his business. Before he could think of anything she turned around and saw him, her face immediately going into alert.

“You are supposed to be resting,” she half asked, half stated. He knew what she was asking. _Did something happen?_

_Fuck yeah it did…_

Still… “You are supposed to be patrolling,” he returned giving her a cocky smile that she swatted off.

“Well, I was, but… I think I have a location on Killer Croc, but I’m testing some samples to be sure” That did explained her presence in the Cave. Even if Steph preferred to work out of Oracle’s Clock Tower, it was still true that the Batcomputer had better equipment for lab analysis. Plus, dealing with Croc usually meant Team effort and that normally was better coordinated from here.

Still, that could seriously screw up his plans. If there was rumors of Croc being active, then most capes would be alerted, and they might be coming _here_.

He might need Bart to push it up and get here faster.

“What are you up to?” Steph voice brought him back to the present and noticed Steph looking at him with a calculating gaze.

_Fuck._

“Nothing,” he tried schooling his face, but Steph rolling her eyes told him he had made a mistake.

“Timothy Jackson Drake, you _know_ you suck at lying to me, right?” She said putting a hand on her hip and glaring at him. Tim clicked his tongue defeated before making a quick rundown on his options. He could tell her to mind her own business, but that would surely only enrage her and make her lash at him, bringing Bruce’s attention to them, which would end any chance he could get from leaving the Manor.

On the other hand, he could just tell her a lie. A better lie. Like, trying to train or get to the computers. She might believe him. But then… He needed to get to the gun and leave before anyone else arrives and he’s starting to be certain someone else will arrive soon, so…

“I’m getting out…”

Being honest was the only option.

_Steph will get it…_

“Titans?” she asked and Tim sighed relieved looking at her understanding gaze. But, he hadn’t told her the real reason for his leave.

“Yeah… And I wanna take one of the guns with me-”

“Tim!” She interrupted him.

“I know! Ok, Steph, I know! It’s risky, but I need to check on those guns,” Tim said raising his hands and trusting Steph would get his meaning.

To other people, he might need to explain why. He might need to tell them that he felt guilty. That he needed to know he hadn’t put his best friend at risk. That he needed to find a contingency in case he did. That he needed to feel useful by doing _something_ and the guns were the safest bet. That it was this, or getting out and going after Deadshot. To anyone else, he would need to justify himself.

But he was talking to Steph and Steph always knew how to read him better than almost anyone else. So they stood there, staring at each other for half a minute.

“Ugh!” She looked about to pull her hair, but Tim risked a smirk knowing he’d won her over, “If you get killed because of this I’m going to summon your ghost and torment you for all eternity,” she glared at him.

“Deal,” he said smiling and she groaned turning to the side knowing she was going to have to help him now. He tilted his head to the side asking her to distract Batman. She sighed and nodded before turning to the machine and pressing a sequence of buttons that caused the machine to suddenly stop.

“Hey, B!” she yelled as Tim ran to the side to merge with the shadows “I need you, the machine’s going crazy,” Steph started rambling about damaged evidence and possible Croc sightings to Batman who was coming to help her. Tim managed to slip through the dark crevices and walked into the lab.

Five minutes and two hacked doors later, he was in the K-Lab, seeing a disassembled rifle and a case with a full set: weapon and antidote. He disabled the triggers that would have fried any unauthorized person trying to grab the case, closed it, secured it and backtracked his footsteps, reinstating every security measure and pretty much ran back to the entrance, in his mind, he had a little over a minute to get to the entry of the cave before…

“Kid Flash,” Batman’s voice boomed a little ahead of him and Tim turned around just in time to see Bart, in full yellow and red suit, standing awkwardly in front of Batman and Steph, who were staring directly at him. Batman must have sensed him, because he spun around and turned his glare on him, “Tim.”

Tim got two things from the way he said his name.

First, it was Tim, not Red. This was about him. This wasn’t about the mission or the capes. Maybe even not about the attack. This was about Tim going down to the cave.

Second, Bruce knew Tim was about to bolt. That was pretty much a given, considering how he’d tensed as soon as he turned to see him. And that was even before his eyes landed on the case on his hand. As soon as that happened, Bru- _Batman_ turned to him and got directly between him and Bart.

He was going to have to fight him now.

Or escape and face the consequences later.

He preferred _later_. Later, he could have answers and this whole mess could be behind them.

So…

“I’m going to Titan’s Tower,” he said taking a couple steps towards Bart.

“Not with that.” Batman moved closer, effectively cutting him off. But, in doing so, he corralled Tim into the stone alcove. The same alcove he’d used to hide his personal suitcase, so he moved a step back, giving the Bat a sense he was withdrawing, only to grab the second suitcase and toss it to Bart, who immediately caught it midair and ran to the side.

With Bats and Steph momentarily disoriented as their eyes followed the flying suitcase, Tim took two steps to the right and got just in front of the exit Bart would use. Batman reacted instinctively and Tim knew he had half a second to disable him or their escape plan would end.

“ _Bruce_ , I’m sorry. I need to do this,” he said, strategically reminding Batman that this was Tim, not Red. Reminding him he didn’t had to go _full-vigilante_ on him. _Bruce_ hesitated and it was the fraction of a second Bart needed to get to Tim’s side. He rested his arm in Bart’s shoulders, so he could carry him easier. “Go!” he ordered just as he sensed Batman taking control again and flexing his muscles to grab him.

One instant he was seeing Batman’s scowl and Steph’s surprise, and the next, the world dissolved into swirls of color that forced him to close his eyes, letting himself be carried across the country via Speed Force.

It had taken a while, but he was already used to it.

He grabbed the weapon’s case tight and turned to the side to check that Bart was also carrying his Red Robin suitcase firmly. He tried not to focus on how angry Bruce was going to get, nor in the consequences of his actions.

He needed space from the Manor, from Jason. He needed to talk to someone. And he needed to do something about the weapons. Coming here was just the perfect scenario to make all of that happen. That was it.

He tried to convince himself of that for the 15 minutes that it took to get to the Tower, but before he even realized it he was standing in the doorway of the Titan’s living room.

“Hey! Look who I brought!” Bart’s cheerful greeting caused Kon, Cassie and Gar, who were currently sitting on the living room to look up. Cassie and Gar immediately rose to greet him and ask him how he was and Tim tried to get around having to hug a giant green gorilla by pivoting, patting him on the back and turning to Kon, who was standing on the living room glaring at him.

He might have been affected by the glare, but… Kon had a _Super_ -glare and Tim had just withstood the full-on _Bat-glare_ , so right now, Kon’s kind of looked like a _hurt puppy gaze_. It did help that Kon had the soul of a giant golden retriever.

“Hi,” Tim said with a sheepish smile.

Kon huffed indignant and said “You’re an asshole,” poking him in the chest.

He rolled his eyes at Kon, “Maybe, but I wanted you safe,” he replied honestly giving him a blank stare. Kon’s unimpressed gaze was enough to tell him he didn’t care, but Tim simply raised his eyebrow and held the stare.

They stayed like that, having a silent stare/conversation until Cassie cleared her throat, “So, what happened?”

Tim told them the story about Deadshot, making sure to highlight it had been his own stupidity that caused the issue; and making sure to leave out any mention of Jason and the mark. He was _not_ thinking about Jason and the mark.

Then, he started to talk about the state of the research and how they were stumped, and that he’d come to research on the weapon. It was then, as he raised the case containing the weapon, when Kon bristled cutting his explanation.

“Wait,” he said raising his palms at him in the universal ‘ _Stop_ ’ gesture and alternating between looking suspiciously at the lead case and glaring at Tim “So, let me get this… you kept me out of Gotham, not letting me come and check on you while you were _dying_ of _K poisoning_ , because there were Kryptonite weapons there. And now, three days later, you just bring one here! _What the fuck, dude!_ ”

Tim felt the base of his neck heat up and he cleared his throat trying not to let himself be swayed by Kon’s anger. “No. I kept you out of Gotham as I _recovered_ _from K-poisoning_ , because there were _unaccounted_ Kryptonite weapons there. This one isn’t _unaccounted_ ,” he explained trying really hard not to sound condescending, since he knew that would just make Kon madder, plus, it was a valid point.

Plus, there was only one reason Artificial K weapons were in circulation: to hurt Kryptonians. He couldn’t very well allow one of the only four known Kryptonians in Earth to show up in Gotham… As far as he could tell that would be just playing into Maroni’s hands.

“I’ll just take _this_ to the lead-lined lab down here and you’ll be safe,” he ended trying to placate Kon, but then the half-kryptonian whipped his head up from staring at the case and looked at him straight to the eye.

“Wait, there’s a _lead-lined lab_ here?” he asked dumbfounded and Tim wanted to laugh at him.

_Of course there is…_

“Sure… It’s where I do my Kryptonite tests,” he explained and was about to turn around when Kon choked up again.

“You have a lab for _Kryptonite tests_ in here?” he practically yelled and Tim took a step back and focused on Kon. He looked mad.

Like really mad.

“Yeah, I-” he turned around to try to gain support from his friends, but Cassie and Gar were looking at him like he had grown a second head, and he felt the need to explain himself, as if he’d done something wrong. “Yeah, o- Of course I have a lab. It’s where all the kryptonite gadgets keep coming from, you know, the needles, scalpels, forceps, operating equipment… You know? All the things we keep using to treat you… Where did you think all of that stuff was coming from?” he finished with a rhetorical question.

“Wayne Enterprises?” Kon blurted out still confused.

Tim wanted to laugh, but merely scoffed at the suggestion, “We can’t exactly justify an on-the-books research on kryptonian first aid stuff at WE…” he explained, letting a little condescendence slip in his tone, which Kon obviously picked up and made him puff his chest.

“How was I supposed to know that?” he asked offended and Tim gaped trying to find an answer… Well, they had Kryptonite scalpels and needles at hand at any time. Where else could they come from?

_I mean, the real question should be, how could you **not** know?_

He froze in his train of thought as he remembered thinking those exact same words less than 36 hours ago. He shook himself of _that_ train of thought, and focused on the issue at hand. “Wait, no one knew about that?” he asked looking around.

Bart shrugged “I did, but that’s mostly because I keep re-reading the entire blueprints of the building… There are like seven copies of the blueprints in the digital library and I’ve read that at least-”

Kon huffed cutting Bart and was still glaring at him with his hands crossed against his chest.

Probably sensing the half-kryptonian about to explode again Cassie, sweet lovely Cassie, decided to intervene. “Is there an Amazonian lab, too?” she asked and he could sense there was no judgement or distrust in her question, merely interest.

“Amazons don’t have a known weakness to a particular substance, like Kryptonians do, so no… But I do have a magic lab with some pretty nasty stuff…” he replied honestly giving her a soft smile. Kon huffed _again_ and Gar added an interested ‘ _Cool’_ that was cut by Kon’s really loud whisper of ‘ ** _So_** _not_ _cool…_ ’

In the end, it took almost twenty minutes of interrogation and a quick visit that messed with all standards of asepsis in the lab, for Kon to begin to even seem approachable. Tim stayed there for a second to leave the weapon on an automatic analysis set up, and then went to his room for a quick shower.

As he walked off, smelling of coconut soap and mint shampoo, he saw both Kon and Bart sharing his bed and choosing a videogame. “So, you wanted to talk?” Bart asked sitting looking serious.

“What’s going on, Tim? Any _other_ secret labs you wanna talk about?” Kon said in a passive aggressive tone that was not well received. His glare must have shown it as Kon raised his hands and then turned to grab one of the N64 controllers.

_So, probably Super Smash today._

He mulled over what he wanted to talk as he changed into civilian, not even bothering to cover from Kon and Bart. They’d shared enough together that there was really nothing they hadn’t seen before. _Nothing they would want to see either, really._

Probably the mark had been the most memorable thing they’d seen on his naked skin. Bart had seen it first, and he’d congratulated him, and then Kon had bombarded him with questions. At the time, they hadn’t known about Jason yet, so Tim had been really confused about it.

Already dressed on clean clothes, he stood by the bed trying to gather his thoughts.

“Right… so, no easy way of saying this… You know how Jason’s my soulmate, right?” Kon’s face hardened in an instant and Bart turned to face him completely still for a second, his golden eyes trained on him, confusion evident on them. “Well, turns out he… sorta… found out about _it…_ just a couple days ago…”

Bart and Kon turned to look at him stunned and Tim smiled at the mirrored faces. “Yep… I pretty much said the same…,” he muttered remembering the disorientation after it became clear Jason had been ignorant about their bond.

“Wait, so… all this time… you’ve been… and he didn’t know?” Bart said gesturing between him and an empty space to his right, probably meaning Jason.

“Nope.” Tim replied, “He came to my room yesterday and said that he’d found out after my attack. He even showed me his mark, because he thought I hadn’t known either…”

“Holy Cow!” Bart exhaled looking at him with wide eyes as the music of Super Smash Bros. started to fill the air. Tim bit his lip a little thinking about Bart’s reaction, he’ll probably try to tell him to go talk to Jason. He’d been pressuring him to get it all out in the open for months now, particularly after Tim had started to shift his views on Jason and the two of them started spending more time together. Tim saw the logic on that advice, but he’d been unable to actually move forward, mainly, because he didn’t wanted to get hurt. He hadn’t wanted an outright rejection. He hadn’t had the guts to actually take the hit.

Now though…

“Well, it’s not like this changes much, does it?” Kon said crossing his legs, resting his back against the headboard while he tugged his controller to unravel the cord, so he could play from there. Bart turned around to face him, while adopting a similar position against the wall.

“Dude, it changes _everything_!” he said accentuating every syllable in the last word, “If he didn’t knew, then it means he didn’t reject Tim! It means Tim’s been working up for nothing… You know, I don’t like saying this, but I did tell you to go talk to him, be upfront about it…” he finished looking at him giving him a pointed look. Tim groaned and sat on the rolling chair, pushing it to be at the same distance as Kon and Bart, before pressing the START button and selecting the _VS Mode_.

He chose to roll his eyes at Bart’s jab, he’d actually been thinking along the same lines before. Kon, however, didn’t care for Bart’s defense of Jason, so he riled up.

“I’m sorry, be upfront about what, exactly? So, yeah, Tim was acting kinda dumb…” Tim actually huffed this time, even if it was mainly out of principle, because he did agree with that assessment. Still, Kon raised an eyebrow challenging in him to counter his point, so Tim decided to let him vent a little, as he turned to the selection screen, knowing how to get back at him.

“But!” Kon said getting back to his point and ignoring the screen “I’m sorry, we’re talking about the same Jason here… aren’t we? The one who- _Hey!_ I’m always Mario!” Tim grinned as he took Kon’s favorite character for the game (and the only he was good with) and rose an eyebrow at him mimicking his earlier gesture. Bart snickered and picked Kirby, leaving Kon to jump undecided between Fox and Samus for a good couple of seconds.

Finally, he went with the space fox, grumbling about the character before continuing his point, “Whatever… Anyway… My point is… We’re talking about Jason here. He’s been a fucking asshole to you, dude! And that’s being _kind,_ like super generous. He did tried to slit your throat, beat you up, tried to manipulate you and then beat you up _again_ …” Tim felt his smile freeze in his face as he thought about Kon’s point.

It was valid.

Jason had been hurting him for a long time, and while, yeah, maybe the whole ‘ _He rejected me and didn’t wanted me as a soulmate’_ was pretty much a self-inflicted wound, the other ones weren’t. The one on his neck wasn’t. It hadn’t been his imagination. It had happened.

Jason had actually tried to kill him.

For a long time, he’d thought that Jason had managed to stop himself from killing his soulmate. He’d thought that fact opened a path for rehabilitation. He’d pushed himself to give Jason a chance after seeing he’d gotten enough self-control not to cross the line.

And now he’d been forced to reevaluate that.

Because Jason hadn’t known.

On one hand, that worked on Jason’s favor because it meant he hadn’t killed Tim, not because of the repercussions of killing his soulmate, but because he didn’t wanted to kill Tim. Which was a good thing.

On the other hand, it meant he’d been so far gone, so messed up, he’d failed to recognize his soulmate; even while pressing a knife to his throat. Even while using him as a punching bag. And the detox hadn’t helped with that, because even after years of being somewhat free of the Pit madness, he’d still failed to recognize him.

“Actually, if anything, if he didn’t realized you two were soulmates then, that’s all the more reason for you to stay _away_ ,” Kon summarized as if he’d been reading Tim’s thoughts. Tim hummed, and Bart jumped into the conversation.

“Come on, Kon! You can’t say that! He was crazed by that Pit stuff. Tim, didn’t you say just two weeks ago, that he was better now, that he was… how did you say…?”

“Starting to act more like my soulmate…” Tim replied, remembering the conversation Bart was alluding to. About three months ago, after another successful mission worked out just by the two of them, Jason had taken Tim out for 4 a.m. chili dogs, because, _why not?_

Tim had had one of the best early mornings in his live laughing at everything with Jason, just enjoying his caustic self without the overbearing weight of _the mission_. Just like two brothers. Just like two soulmates.

He’d called Bart to talk to him about that, to have someone tell him it was a bad idea to keep doing those kind of things. Bart had reminded him again that he should be honest.

_I should have listened._

Tim sighed tired as the screen turned bright and the random map came.

As the clock started to count down, Kon clicked with his tongue and said, “Well, I don’t trust him.”

Bart huffed and added, “I think you should give him a chance.”

Tim hummed dissatisfied at his two friends as they launched on another tirade of reasons to support each of the positions they already held, while beating each other up on the game. Tim groaned trying to follow their arguments and getting his two cents here and there, but being honest with himself, they were just repeating the points they had already made and then getting angry that the other one didn’t agree.

And the worst part was, Tim kind of agreed with both of them.

True, Jason had been an asshole to him, and going with him was literally walking into the hands of his aggressor.

But, also true, Jason hadn’t been in full control of his actions. And it wasn’t just that he was giving Jason an out. After being dipped into the Pit, he knew how the rage messed with his brain.

_That_ hadn’t been _Jason_.

The point was how much of Jason was still the _Pit_ , and how much was _himself_. And if he wanted to risk his soulmate bond on the answer.

_And I have no fucking clue, whatsoever._

After five minutes of the same bullshit, Tim groaned out loud realizing Kon and Bart weren’t going to give him an answer, “Wow, I’m so glad I asked you guys! Everything’s so much clearer now…” he said with purposefully unconcealed annoyance.

Bart huffed hurt and asked “What do you _want_ from us, then?”

“Advise! Like, _what do I **do**_?” Tim yelled as he avoided one of Kon’s blasts in the game. Both Bart and Kon turned to look at him and answered at the same time.

“Talk to him!”

“Stay away!”

Tim would have groaned, but then they both looked at each other and, also at the same time yelled, “ _Don’t listen to him!_ ” Tim looked at them, saw they were both looking dumbfounded, before they tried to hide a grin and _then_ he groaned hiding his face on the controller.

“Remind me again, why did I asked you guys to help me with this?” he asked no one in particular.

Still, Kon replied, “Because you´re stupid and overthink everything?” which make both of them laugh, and made Tim throw one of his pens to him, feeling a little satisfaction when it hit him in the nose, causing Kon to make a completely undignified yelp sending Bart and Tim in a fit of laughter.

The game was forgotten as Kon tried to wrestle Tim into the bed to smother him with a pillow, while Bart ran around them giving them pillows, clothes and towels to use as weapons and taking away potential objects that could be truly harmful, before both Kon and Tim realized he wasn’t actually helping either of them, so they both turned on him.

Ten minutes later, his room was completely upside down. The mattress now laid on the door of the bathroom, while his desk and all the electronics were arranged in a completely unstable structure by the far wall of the room, and Bart was praying for oxygen, being crushed by Kon, while Tim sat triumphantly on top of both of them.

Two seconds later he rolled to the side, and let Kon get off Bart who jumped for breath, sent them a dirty glare before grinning and running to bring snacks for all of them. Tim laid there, in the mattress with half his body resting in the bathroom floor trying to calm his breathing and fighting the grin off his face.

Kon turned around and knocked his head before speaking, “Tim, I… just, whatever you do, whatever you decide… Don’t let it get too far. Promise me you won’t let it get like _that time_ again…”

_That time…_

Of course Tim knew what Kon was talking about. It had been about two months after Kon returned from the death and they’d recovered Bruce.

At the time, Tim had had this childish dream that the return of Bruce and his friends meant everything was going to get back on track. That his life would somehow get _better,_ magically.

It hadn’t.

Bruce had been disappointed at how he handled the whole Boomerang thing. His parents remained dead. He was being drown by the whole shit show that was kick-starting Batman Inc. He didn’t immediately returned to the Titans. It looked like everything was spiraling too fast and he was getting left behind.

So, one evening, he deemed he needed to let go, just for a second, so he’d bought about five bottles of different kinds of alcohol and went to a secret hideout to _fucking drink his bodyweight in booze_.

Kon had found him. He said Tim called him, but he does not have any recollection of that.

He does remember, though, talking his soul out to him. He remembers crying. He remembers tossing a knife, though he’s not entirely sure what he meant to do with it, and Kon has never agreed to tell him.

He _knows_ they talked about Jason. Not the specifics. His memory is way too muddled for that. But, he knows it wasn’t good.

Up until that moment, Kon was wary of Jason. Like all Titans, he hadn’t been exactly a fan of the man. But after that night, after whatever Tim said to him, Kon moved from wariness to active hatred. He’s never been shy about the fact that he hates that they’re both living together in the Manor.

Tim’s had to stop him _hard_ a couple times, when he becomes too much.

“I’m in a much better place now, Kon,” he said trying to calm him, but the clone just hummed, so Tim decided to press. “Bart’s right. I have to talk to him. I- I should’ve. Ages ago.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s his,” Kon growled under his breath, but Tim noticed a defeated attitude in his voice, which was confirmed by how his shoulders slumped at Tim’s gaze, “Fine. Talk to him, but Tim… If he doesn’t… If he hurts you. You need to come back here. You won’t stay there, pushing yourself for the mission or whatever bullshit you think you have to do. You come _right back_. I don’t want to have to drag your ass back here again.”

Tim looked at himself in the mirror of the bathroom. He hadn’t thought about it… coming back to the Titans full time, getting a little distance… He’d thought about running here just to get some air, to organize his thoughts, he hadn’t thought about it… long term.

It was worth considering.

Maybe doing what Cass does…

“I’m serious, you have a family here,” Kon insisted and Tim smiled at him while he tried to organize his thoughts. He put his hand on Kon’s shoulder while nodding and standing up from the bathroom floor.

It was worth thinking and he said so to Kon, who nodded at him before they both got busy fixing the room while waiting for Bart.

He might need this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again, 
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, I hope you like this chapter.
> 
> Next chapter: Jason's POV.


	6. Chapter 6

Maybe it was a little sickening…

And it could certainly be argued that it was a symptom of a very worrisome deviation…

But, _hell with everything_ : the sound of the arm of a child abuser breaking under the sole of his boot felt _good._ It felt _**right**._

And right now, he needed good. He needed right. Because good and right felt normal and he desperately needed _normal_.

Feeling _good_ for punishing criminals _made sense_.

The last couple of hours – _nay_ , **_days_** – had been going on the fucking opposite of normal. He was in Bizarro World and he’d somehow fucking missed how he ended up here, so having something _that makes sense_ in his world was like a breath of fresh air after hours of breathing sewer stink.

The guy stopped screaming, so Red Hood got off his left arm and let his boot fall hard on his right one, twisting the iron sole and breaking the bones. After a couple of seconds, he turned around, looking at the asshole in the eye.

This guy had pressed a hot iron to the back of a 10-year-old kid, the triangular shape of the iron and the steam holes had been marked on the kid’s skin. A kid who’d gone _too-fucking-many times_ to the clinic with burns and hits from multiple “accidents”. _The Justice System_ had let this asshole walk away after paying a ridiculously small bond fee for a fucking shitty bail because the judge had considered _he_ ’d been under “extenuating circumstances" when pressing a clothing iron on a minor's back.

Red Hood was here to make sure he would never be able to abuse a kid. _Extenuating circumstances_ or not.

The _human shitpile_ was about to pass out from the pain and his sight was probably blurry with all the tears, so Red Hood slapped him hard, forcing him to focus and stop whining, “What do we agree on?”

“I’m a piece of garbage,” he replied dutifully thought the tears and sore throat.

Red Hood nodded before asking “And?”

The guy whimpered “If I touch my kid…” he cried out before stuttering something inaudible, so Red Hood slapped him again, “If I touch my kid, or any another kid, you’ll do worst…”

“ _Much_ worst” Red Hood corrected him and the asshole whimpered again, “And you’ll live the rest of your pathetic life to remember it.” The guy made a horrible sound and Red kicked him effectively knocking him out, before pressing his comms, “Call GCPD to my address, I have an asshole they can pick up.”

The line went silent for half a second before it came live with Oracle’s voice. “Patrol car or ambulance?” she asked directly and Red Hood smirked.

"Ambulance," he said proudly.

“Do try to sound less happy about this, please. For my sake.” Red Hood huffed a laugh before running out, taking his grappling gun out and zipping all the way to a gargoyle on a 10 story building half a block away.

As soon as he landed, a feeling he’d tried to ignore started to inch closer to his conscious mind and he quickly swatted it away, turning around to look at the streets, trying to spot anything in the adjacent buildings.

He was in one of the seedier parts of the Bowery so it wouldn't be long before some asshole decided to break the law. From his vantage point, he could see all the way from Crime Alley and into Luther King Blvd. The streets themselves were almost empty of traffic, with only a random sedan making an occasional turn and flooring the pedal, probably someone risking passing through these streets as a shortcut to get faster to or from home.

Public transport was also dead at this time of night. Not that it’s much more helpful on broad daylight. Taking a bus around here was asking to get mugged or get caught in a fight.

People from this side of town don’t usually own cars and they don’t get on a bus. People from these side of town are used to a long fast-paced walk. It doesn’t really bother most of the people here. Most of them are happy having a roof over their heads and some sort of odd job. If they have to walk to get there; well, they’ll walk.

That’s what people who aren’t from Gotham didn’t get about this place.

Fuck, this is what those fancy Gothamites up by the outskirts didn’t get about the Bowery.

The Bowery doesn’t need a fancy upgraded transportation system, they don’t need freaking huge-ass luxury supermarkets. They need to be left to work and improve their homes. They would rather have the slaughterhouse that employed 60 people, than have it tore down to put a subway station that no one would ever use.

_‘Let’s connect the Bowery to the rest of Gotham’_

A fucking joke by bleeding heart politicians looking to _improve the way of life in this forsaken part of the city,_ a decision made without even bothering to ask its people what they wanted. Because every single person on these streets would tell you that the Bowery wasn’t _forsaken_. It wasn’t _discarded or unwanted_.  Its people loved and hated it with a passion only a true Gothamite would feel.

With the same passion, the rest of Gotham felt whenever their city was smeared by foreigners.

Red’s hand involuntarily moved to the side, rubbing the grip of his gun, before he realized what he was doing and clicked his tongue.

_It’s getting annoying again…_

He huffed and shook the thought away forcing himself to focus on the police radio chatter.

_Nothing._

Silent streets and a full-housed Arkham…

Fuck, he would give anything to have a massive breakout. One that would work him to the bone. He needed it. He needed the distraction because _It_ was starting to become fucking annoying again…

Red tried to regulate his breath, he tried to move away from the border, but his body felt frozen. He was _not_ thinking about it, but the more he ignored it, the more he could feel it.

In the end, his hand landed on the grip again and he clicked and swatted his hand away hard, ending up hitting himself with the stone gargoyle and the pain had him hissing out as he caressed his hand. Jason huffed and took off the helmet and the gauntlet and inspected it.

_Just a bruise, probably._

But the fucking _itching_ was still there… Jason breathed out slowly, before removing the leather brace and stared at his fucking mark.

_Tim’s mark._

His teeth gritted at that thought.

The mark had been itching for the past day and a half non-stop ever since that stupid conversation with- _with him_.

He’d gone to the Manor after debating with himself for over 16 hours about what to do. Whether to ignore it or just be upfront with Tim. He’d ended up deciding to tell him, _break the news_. He’d thought it was the _honorable_ thing to do. He had believed he needed to tell _Tim_ they were soulmates. It was fair. He might have found out by accident, but Tim deserved to know from him.

He’d felt knots up and down his guts during all his trek to the Manor.

But he’d decided he had to do it…

And then, just after walking into the room, just from the start…

_“Hey, pretty bird”_

The first three words and it had been enough to send him stumbling down a fucking whirlpool of odd feelings and mind-fucks. That conversation had gone to hell in two minutes flat and it landed him in this fucking Bizarro World he was living in.

‘ _You didn’t know?_ ’

_‘How could you not know?’_

‘ _Well, for starters, my mark itches whenever you’re near me!_ ’

 _Itching_.

Tim had known they were soulmates because of a fucking _itch._

Jason’s not entirely sure how his body felt _Before_. Before the Clown. Before the grave. Before the Pit. Before the Detox, even… After living the last several years dealing with ghost flashes of pain, burning and… yeah, itching all over his body, he's not exactly surprised he didn't manage to pick up on the _nuances_ of his body’s reaction to being near his fucking _replacement_.

Yes, his hands itched when he was near Tim. But they also itched when Bruce came into the room. Or when the clown was near him.

His whole _arm_ used to itch for him to grab a gun and put a bullet in all three of them. The itching used to make him ball his hand into a fist and he was ready to beat the shit out of all of them.

So, **no**.

He hadn't noticed that the itching in his wrist he got from being near Tim came from the mark, while Bruce's and the Clown's came from his fingers. And now, after that stupid talk, he began to realize that thinking about Tim gives him the same feeling he's come to associate with a need to hit someone. So much so, that for the last day and a half, he's had to physically restrain himself from going for his gun every time he thought of him.

He massaged his wrist and decided to take a break and roll a cigarette. For a second he wished he had something a little stronger. That maybe he needed something with a little bit of a kick. Something he could smoke, snort or inject that would actually take his mind off…

Jason sighed, kicking that thought off his mind before it fully formed. He wasn’t going to go through that. Not to mention he wouldn’t be able to face Roy ever again if he decided to drug himself because of his _fucking soulmate_.

He lit the hand-rolled tube and took a long drag trying to ease himself into the nicotine cloud.

_‘How could you **not know**?’_

The fucking pit in his stomach came back in full force as Tim’s hurt voice rang in his ears. Jason clenched his teeth hard trying to come up with anything to distract himself from this, but Gotham wasn’t really helping him, as the streets were really quiet tonight.

_How the fuck was he supposed to know?_

And more importantly, why the fuck had Tim decided not to tell him?

Fuck, Jason hadn’t been able to sit with the knowledge of his soulmate’s identity for 16 fucking hours and the stupid self-sacrificing replacement-Robin actually has been living with it for years. For four, maybe even five fucking years…

On the upside, now he had an answer as to when he’d presented. It hadn’t been the torture, it had been the ‘ _dragging myself off a coffin’_. Still not great, but Jason could actually appreciate the idea of his mark only being indirectly linked to the Clown.

Tim had gained it then too. While training to be Robin.

And he’d probably deduced Jason’s identity either at the cemetery or during his visit at Titan’s Tower. Jason had tried, as hard as he could, to remember if he’d felt something out of the ordinary those nights. It had taken a while, but he had remembered. His veins had been pure fire, his body was demanding retribution and Jason wanted nothing more than killing Tim.

His whole body had vibrated on the idea of killing him.

_‘Didn’t it **burn** every time you tried?’_

No, it hadn't just burnt, it had melted his skin like lava.  He had felt his skin on fire, but the problem had been that with Pit rage his body was _always_ hot.

Still.

Every time he was about to kill Tim his body was _burning_. He’d thought it was the hate. That it was the anticipation to kill the Pretender, the Replacement. To punish Bruce… But now… Now that he has time to think about it… it was the killing of his soulmate.

It had twisted his gut, realizing that.

He had _honestly tried to kill his soulmate_.

Of course, he'd already realized that ever since that first night in Leslie's Clinic when he wasn't able to tear his eyes from Tim. But now, after going back to that night, he'd realized he had actually wanted to kill his soulmate. He'd **_reveled_** in the thought of his soulmate dying by his hand.

Right now, there was an unwashed metallic can on his apartment’s kitchen sink, with traces of his last half-digested meal. A testament of the reaction he’d had yesterday, right after _that thought_ came to him for the first time.

Right after he’d remember how it felt to _want to kill Tim_.

His stomach had balled up and he’d thrown up what felt like a week’s worth of meals. The bile on his throat burned him even now, just remembering it.

_This is why I didn't want a fucking soulmate._

Two days ago, he had been sitting in a hospital chair thinking how stupidly awesome it was to have a soulmate he’d want. How idiotic he’d been to reject the idea of a soulmate offhandedly. Except…

Except he’d been right all along.

Of course, he didn’t get the happy ever after.

_Kudos, you get the grand prize on Soulmate Lottery! Your soulmate is TIM DRAKE!_

_But… Unfortunately, you tried to kill him, then ignored him for years and now he hates you for it!_

_Thank you for playing, better luck next life!_

If he ever meets Fate or Destiny or one of those fucking immortal cosmic entities that dictate human fortune, he’s gonna kill them. He’s fucking getting even and he gives a shit if the universe is wrecked in the process.

So. That was that…

Tim didn't want him; he'd hurt him too much and… Well, Jason didn’t…

He…

_I don’t want a soulmate. I don’t want… Tim._

Except that he fucking _did_.

For the 72 hours he'd known Tim is his soulmate, Jason had fucking realized how much he _wants_ Tim. And it’s fucking stupid. It’s borderline obsessive behavior. It’s the kind of thinking that leads a person to stalk and obsess over someone else.

But he is… He’s fucking obsessing about Tim.

His soulmate, Tim.

And he wants him. He wants him. His body has been itching to go back to the Manor and just claim what is _his_ , screw to Hell whatever the rest of the world might think… what Tim himself thinks.

And it scares Jason, how his mind has been going over and backward thinking about it. And it's why he doesn't want to think about it. About this Bizarro World, he found himself in. It's why he needs to punish child predators, molesters, abusers and every fucking criminal in Gotham and beat them until the fucking law it's seared in their brains and they're too scared to break it ever again.

He needs that.

He…

Oracle’s voice crackled in his helmet and all his thoughts were silenced as he put the helmet back on, “So, Red. Just to be clear, we’re in a secure line, just you and me,” he frowned at that.

_What?_

“What?” he asked, having a vague idea but deciding to play stupid.

“Well. I was just thinking, you’ve been in the same spot for the past 15 minutes, so you’re obviously not in a hurry; and I already gave you day and a half to unwind, so maybe you would like to take this opportunity –where it’s just you and me and all bats are otherwise occupied–, to tell me _what the flying fuck_ , Jason Todd?!” Oracle, no, actually she’d dropped the modulator, so it was Babs talking to him.

“ _The flying fuck_ being?" Jason replied accepting her offer or really recognizing his inability to escape the talk she wanted to have.

Babs actually scoffed “Jason, I had to send 45 ambulances to individual addresses in your patrol route in under 36 hours. Your previous record was 22 in a day. And that was right after you and Bruce came to an agreement.”

Jason made a mental calculation and realized that, of course, Babs was right. He hadn’t realized he’d gotten that bad.  “Right,” Jason said trying as hard as he could not letting any emotion show.

He took off his helmet again and just put the receiver in his ear. Maybe he should confide in Babs. Fucking thinking about this was driving him crazy and he couldn’t exactly call Roy and drop such a fucking bomb on his feet.

Although… it might be good just to see his reaction…

Babs’ too, if he’s honest with himself... So Jason decided to go for it.

"Tim's my soulmate," he deadpanned and he hated how the words came out as if he was tasting the words in his mouth, and it definitively sickened him how _good_ they felt, how _easy_ they rolled off his tongue.

Babs was silent for a second and Jason enjoyed the feeling of actually managing to leave the great Oracle speechless, but then he heard her clear her throat and say “Yeah?” like she was expecting him to elaborate.

As if he hadn’t just given her the _fucking news bombshell_ he’d received three days ago… Like she’d already known…

…

He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his nose bridge trying to prevent the headache he knew was coming.

“You **_fucking_** _detectives_ …” he growled letting a breath out.

‘ _If I find out Bruce knew about this before I did, I’m gonna fucking shoot someone.’_

“How long?” he asked her, not needing to elaborate.

“For how long have I known you and Tim are soulmates…? Oh, I don’t know, around the first time I saw you two working together, I think… For certain, about three months ago, when Steph let slip some info about Tim’s mark. I mean, two robins flying around each other… Kind of obvious.”

_Kind of obvious…_

Jason sighed. “Right, well I _didn’t_ know. I found out after Deadshot almost killed him," he said and Babs cut him with an incredulous _‘Wait, really?’_ that had Jason growling frustrated, “How in hell was I supposed to know?”

Tim had acted the same… As if knowing who your soulmate is was supposed to be ingrained in your fucking brain.

_It isn’t. Sorry, but it fucking isn’t._

He doesn’t give a shit about fucking itchings, or marks of flying robins. If finding your soulmate was a given thing, then why the fuck is it that almost every fucking romance since _Ancient Greece_ hangs on the idea that you do not just _know_ who your soulmate is?

Why is it that finding the soulmate is always _the_ romantic mystery?

Well, it’s because finding your soulmate is supposed to be an intimate thing. It’s supposed to be _hard_. It’s not something you fucking deduce just by an itching, or by looking at a _fucking mark of flying fucking birds._

Only freaking weirdoes are able to deduce that shit.

Weirdoes like Tim and Babs.

“What do you mean, _how?_ He’s your soulmate! _”_ Jason’s scoff should have been enough to warn Babs, because she sighed as if she was talking to a small child, “Come on, Jason! You’re possessive and defensive of him. You keep trying to make up excuses to be in the same team with him. You even call him _'Pretty Bird'!_ I mean, **_Come on!_** " She listed, sounded frustrated at the end and Jason was feeling hot in his face, so he huffed trying to find any way to deflate her argument and cursing her fucking ability to make him feel like a 12-year-old.

Really…

“I’m not possessive…” he tried, knowing full well the whole _Pretty Bird_ thing was true, he’d even realized it when he’d talked to Tim a day and a half ago. He _honestly_ hadn’t realized how intimate that nickname sounded until he said it out loud to him. In his own room. As he walked to Tim’s bed. Knowing he was his soulmate. His heart had fluttered as he realized how _true_ and _familiar_ it felt to call Tim _pretty bird_.

_‘My pretty bird…’_

His mind had half broken at the thought he’d actually been _thinking_ about Tim as ‘pretty bird’ for two whole fucking years, and not once had he sat and tried to rationalize the decision. He’d said it one, it had fit, and it had stuck. End of story.

Except… well… It was a fucking weird nickname for a _sibling_.

Babs actually laughed at him, ignoring his mental breakdown at being reminded of the _Pretty Bird_ debacle. “Oh, really? Not possessive… Do you remember the thing with Midnighter?”

Jason growled, all other thoughts forgotten. _That_ was not fair. _That_ had been Jason looking out for a teammate.

 _‘The thing with Midnighter’_ had happened about a year ago: Midnighter had shown up asking for Dick to help him and his _Authority_ with some shit, but Dick wasn’t there, so Tim had offered. Midnighter, _the_ _asshole_ he was, turned and looked at Tim as if he was _food;_ as if he could just walk up like a buffet and just _eat him_.

Tim didn't even notice, focusing on the data he was examining, _the fucking nerd._

Jason had felt his blood boil at the sight, even more, when he remembered _the asshole_ was actually supposed to be married to his soulmate. And then, he moved Red’s cape around and asked Tim if he wouldn’t be more comfortable without it.

While checking his ass.

And biting his lip.

He could have been drooling for all Jason cared. It had been the final drop. He punched the asshole in the face without warning, surprising everyone, including himself.

He hadn’t thought of it as possessiveness or jealousy. He just didn’t like lecherous people looking at his teammates as _meat_.

_That was it._

He didn’t care the asshole did the same thing with Dick and that didn’t bother him at all, but then again, Dick willingly walked around on that skintight ‘costume’ of his, that just begged for people to check out his ass.

He was about to say so, when Babs continued, “How about your reaction every time Ra’s talks about him?”

And that actually had him replying without thinking, “ _Ra’s_ is a fucking **_pervert_**.” He was. _Period._ No one should look at a kid like _that_ … And then sending people to get knocked up by the kid…

Yeah, no…

"So, that's a yes to the possessiveness," Babs asked and Jason scoffed again hating how Babs was able to make him feel like a fucking high schooler every time they talk.

_And sure, hindsight is always 20/20._

Of course, if he looks at his actions now, he’s gonna find a lot to support that he should have known, but…

“You know, for some time there, I had thought he was the one being… I don’t know… I thought you knew and he’d rejected you or something,” Babs continued and Jason had to protest at that, ego slightly bruised.

“Why would he reject me?” he asked, but as the words left his mouth, he remembered Tim’s own words and in a second Jason remembered the time he beat him up, the time he sliced his throat, the time he left him for dead… His mark started burning slightly when he backtracked, “Right… Don’t answer that.”

“Well,” Babs talked, not really letting him stew in his thoughts “Now you _know_ , you _both_ _know_. And now you both know _the_ _other knows_. So… What’s the problem, kiddo?” Babs asked as if it was that simple.

_I tried to kill him._

_I beat him countless times._

_I thought, and maybe still think, he’s in a relationship with the Super Clone_

_I fucking found out I have a soulmate, so let me fucking breathe…_

Jason sighed, "He… he thinks I didn't want him," he replied picking just one of the answers, one that had got seared in his mind since his short conversation with Tim, but that he'd really tried not to think about until right now. "Shit, Babs. Not only did I failed to recognize him and tried to kill him, and then… I spent the last what, two, three years telling him I'd rather be _markless_.”

Oh, he remembers that one pretty clearly.

After his talk with Tim, Jason started remembering. He’d said it too many times. Up until the night he’d found out Tim was his soulmate, he’d spent every passing thought on soulmates rejecting the very notion and he’d stated it as soon as the topic surfaced.

“Fuck, you should’ve seen his face Babs, it _hurt him_. He was really fucking messed by that.”

It was true, the way his eyes had sunk when he started rambling about Jason not wanting him, Jason could _feel_ the doubts, the uneasiness, the…  He didn't even want to think how Tim had felt all this time, thinking his own soulmate, the person who is supposed to be _yours_ , had tried to _kill_ him and when he failed, he’d decided to _reject him_.

‘ _I thought that’s why you…_ ’

Jason had known what that sentence was supposed to end. ‘ _I thought that’s why you didn’t want me._ ’

Jason knew Tim had a close relationship with rejection. Fuck, he’d profiled the abandonment issues of the kid many times while planning his revenge. He’d tried to use them to recruit him once. And then, Jason had spent the last two years trying to convince Tim, in his own way, that he was happy to have a relationship with him, that he was sorry for calling him a replacement or a pretender, that they could both have a place in the Family, and that it was better if they did…

 _But,_ at the same time, while Jason had been trying his fucking best to be _good_ for Tim, to pay his dues… all he'd been doing is slashing at Tim, making him feel rejected, unwanted. He'd told him he didn't want a soulmate.

He'd told…

Jason had already known that Tim _always_ seemed to disappear back to San Francisco or to lock himself with a WE project after every time the family had a soulmate conversation.

Every time _he_ fucking told _everyone_ his stance on soulmates.

Damian had actually been the one to point it out to Jason, about a year ago. They’d talked about soulmates, Jason just made an off-hand comment and Dick started on one of his tirades about love and fucking _rainbows and kittens_. Tim had left almost immediately after that and Damian had noted how Tim avoided talks on soulmates. Dick had shrugged it off to Tim not having presented yet, swearing that once he did, the boy would come around.

At the time, Jason couldn’t have cared less about it. At the time, it had been just another one of the many quirks his pretty bird had: He got skittish about soulmate talk.

Now, though, he fucking realized it wasn't that Tim got skittish about anything, it was Tim running away from him because he was hurting him. Because he was telling him he didn't want anything to do with him.

“Do you?” Babs asked and Jason was a little confused being brought out of his train of thought, and she must have sensed it, because she added, “Want to be markless?”

 _Yes. No?_   “I don’t fucking know, Babs…” he replied honestly tossing the remains of his cigarette.

He didn't know.

He wanted nothing to do with soulmates. It was a fucking mess, talking with Tim had twisted him in a way that he hadn't expected. He'd felt the pain of a soulmate fight and if he was honest with himself, Jason didn't want that.

_Fuck it, it isn’t worth it._

_It isn’t…_

Even if it was _Tim_.

Smart, sane, good _Tim_.

Stupid nerd, 4.0 GPA, Genius-level intellect _Tim_.

Trustworthy, strategic, youngest-ever CEO of WE _Tim_.

He was a fucking wet dream of a soulmate for someone like him. Tim didn’t saw the world in black and white, he constantly sees the grey, the darker-than-black pits of hell that make up this world, and he still manages to remain _good_. The world has put him through enough crap to break everyone and he just fucking dealt with it and came on top.

Jason was willing to put some money on the line and bet Tim could come up with reasons why _he_ was a catch, even though Jason has beaten him up and tried to kill him a gazillion times. Tim could probably still see the _merit_ in Jason. He could center him. Even before knowing he was his soulmate, Tim was one of maybe three or four people Jason could see himself falling for, living life with. 

But it was also _Tim_.

His half-brother.

His _previous assassination target_.

A weakness, if he’s able to twist him like this.

“Look, Jay, I have to go, Dick’s going crazy trying to contact,” Babs said, cutting his line of thought yet again, “But, don’t over think this. And for God’s sake don’t bury it under layers of denial. Tim- Tim will listen if you talk to him. He’s… It should be easy for you to talk to him, even if it’s hard with everyone else, he’s the one who will _get you_.”

Jason wasn’t sure if Tim would get him.

Not after everything.

Not after failing to recognize him and then disappearing for two days straight.

Not after how many fucking years of continuous fuck ups.

_How does he even start trying to untangle that fucking mess?_

He didn't get a chance to think about it, though, because a second later his mic came live with Oracle's voice again. "Red, you still free?" Red Hood hummed affirmatively feeling his body go in high alert. Babs had cut their talk because of Dick’s incessant calling, which meant…

_Something happened._

Her next words confirmed it. “I need you to head to the Cave. Nightwing and Batgirl both just confirmed Killer Croc sightings and Bat’s requesting an all hands on deck for this one.”

“Roger,” he muttered as he jumped off, heading to his closest bike.

All hands on deck…

That means Tim too…

_Fuck._

_-_-_-_-_

Turns out, this was **not** an all-hands-on-deck kind of situation. Croc had come down fairly easily, still high on drugs from Arkham. It only took two tasers and a couple of flash grenades.

In the end, Goldie boy, Blondie and the Demon brat had been enough to take him down, Red Hood hadn’t had to put a foot on the sewer and still got to blow up his hideout. So, all in all, great night for him.

They headed straight for the Cave and if anyone was surprised he was trailing along with them, they didn’t say anything. It wasn’t completely uncommon and Jason had already surprised himself several times calling the Manor, home. Even if he would like nothing more than to reject the idea of calling the Wayne Manor his home. He still kind of got carried away… sometimes.

So yeah… He got to the Cave and was ready to head upstairs.

Home…

And possibly to his _soulmate_ … He’ll have to face him _sometime_. He was supposed to do so before starting the mission, but the kid had stayed in his room for some reason. Probably the same one Jason had been ignoring Bat-channels…

Jason tried to mentally come up with the words he wanted to say to his soulmate a couple of times, before feeling something crawl under his skin and he scowled, changing his thoughts focusing on the task of removing every piece of equipment and discarding the used ammo, making a mental note of what he would need to replace.

He'd need to make a large order of .38 and .45 rubber bullets. He'd gone through an insane amount this past week… And the P220 was acting out, the magazine required more pressure than normal to release. His reloading time was increasing because of that.

He would need to…

"Still can't believe you let him get away…" Dick's voice drew him out of his mental check, turning around to where Dick was standing looking disapprovingly at Blondie, who was, in turn, scowling at Dick.

“You know, for someone who used to date _and_ led a speedster into battle, you really don’t seem to get the concept of a _super speed escape_ ,” She replied tossing her hair back and getting into an openly defensive position.

_Now, that was interesting…_

“Who escaped?” he asked a little lost on the conversation. “Tim-” Stephanie answered and Jason was secretly glad the two of them were staring at each other because they missed the way his whole body shivered at that.

_Tim wasn’t home?_

_Since when?_

“He didn’t _escape_ ,” Dick rebuffed, “He wasn’t trapped… He merely… Got away, you know? Against our… uhm… _advice_?” he finished scratching his neck realizing how he’d just undercut his own argument. Steph smirk was enough to tell Jason she was about to point it out for him, but a male voice beat her to it.

“You just _defined_ the act of escaping, Grayson," Damian tutted from behind him, making Dick move to the side to glare at him, while also integrating him into the little square the four of them were now making. 

He ignored Dick’s reply as he thought about Tim gone. On one hand, he was definitively relieved about not having to deal with him right now; but then, there was a bit of longing at knowing he’d just up and left.

He remembered his digression on the rooftop, not five hours ago…

_He left because I hurt him, as he always does…_

“Do we know if he made it to the Titans?” Dick asked, and Jason had to try really hard not to show he was very interested in the answer. Steph hummed, “I think so, would have heard back if he hadn’t… I mean, he took one of the weapons, you could track if it’s in the Tower…”

“He really shouldn’t be running around with a weapon like that.” Dick sighed with a tone of worry and a bit of disappointment, Jason had to agree with that feeling. “I mean, we hadn’t even tested if it was safe for Speed Force travel-”

“I think he knows that better than anyone” Steph cut, defending Tim with a huff “He knows to be careful. That thing could end up hurting someone… Kon, for starters,” she said off-handedly as she fixed her hair into a ponytail and took off the first layer of her armor, to hang on the sides.

Dick started mimicking her, taking off his own armored pieces and leaving them in his shelf as they kept talking to each other. “Jesus, he wouldn’t forgive himself if his boyfriend got hurt because of his carelessness.”

Jason felt a knot in his throat at that and tried to shake it off, Tim had said they weren’t boyfriends. He should probably believe that. He focused on the guns as Dick made another comment, and then Steph started talking about Titan’s tower and Bart’s arrival to the Cave. Apparently, Tim had managed to outwit Bruce.

The conversation was cut short by Damian who clicked his tongue at them "Tt. Typical of you lot, Brown brings a good point and you focus on the unimportant. Drake better takes good care of that weapon. If that buffoon ends up hurting Jon, he'll have to answer to _me_.”

 _That_ made Dick go on a tangent about Jon and soulmates and Jason definitively had to leave the fucking place because he the itching was starting to become a tremor and Jason might love to take risks, but he's not stupid enough to be handling weaponry with shaky hands. 

He huffed internally, put all of his armor in the shelves, grabbed the stainless steel water bottle he always kept close at hand when he was in the Manor and took off without exchanging a word with the three of them.

Perks of being the family asshole: he can just leave a conversation and people won’t feel offended…

Well, they won’t be _surprised_ at being offended so they wouldn't hold it against him. 

Jason was probably not going to change that and start worrying about their feelings.

Instead, he could focus on getting some food in him and then… maybe he should look for Cass. Without Tim here, he could do with the workout. And then he could go to sleep.

He deserved that.

A good plate of whatever Alfred whipped up and a nice workout and then a soft bed to sleep, preferably uninterrupted by traitorous thoughts of _his soulmate_.

His soulmate, who was currently probably in Titans Tower, having a good time with the Clone.

The Clone that might be his boyfriend.

He might even be fucking the Clone right now.

_My soulmate’s probably fucking his boyfriend right now._

"Jason," a booming voice snaps him out of his mind and he turned around to growl something back at him, when he noticed the fact that everyone in the room was looking at him weird, he was about to snap at all of them, but he managed to stop himself as he raised his hand when he noticed his water bottle was crumpled in his fist.

Well. _Shit_.

Still, everyone was looking at him with fucking _worry_ in their eyes and Jason felt anger boiling up on his veins “What?” he barked at them, causing Damian and Steph to frown and glare at him and Dick to look even more worried. Jason felt the heat in his chest turn up to 100 and was about to walk down and wipe that worry off Dick’s _fucking face_ when the previous voice stopped him again.

“Jason. A word,” Bruce said, cutting any possible confrontation and Jason was tempted to turn around and flipped him off, but Bruce had started walking to the private space on the far side of the computer, and despite wanting nothing more than yelling to Bruce that he could shove the crumpled water bottle up his own ass; he also knew walking away would just move whatever conversation Bruce  wanted to have up to the Manor’s kitchen, so, between a private shout out and a public one, he honestly preferred the one where he wouldn’t have to deal with Bruce AND Dick at the same time.

So he followed him trying to figure out what he wanted to talk about.

Probably why he’d been off-radar for the last two days.

No way, he’s having _that_ conversation with him. He’ll have to think of something else.

Knowing Bruce, probably just yelling at him to fuck off and telling him that he needs his own fucking time would be enough… It had certainly worked before, whenever he needed some time to unwind from the madness that was living on the same roof as Bruce, Dick and their little Orphanage for Broken Birds.

_Yeah, I could just tell him to back the hell off and-_

“Has something happened between you and Tim?”

And nothing.

Blank.

First sentence and Jason was already off-balance by the fucking Bat. Again.

“Excuse me?” he said feeling strangely open, looking at the Bat without his cowl. Those calmed, icy blue eyes were staring at him, assessing, dissecting, evaluating. Reading far too much into his mind, far much more than Jason was fucking willing to let him.

_Why did he…_

“Tim’s escape is unusual for him. And he’s been acting out of character,” Bruce said after half a second and Jason breathed again. _So, just the usual drill._ One of his orphans acts up, so it has to be the _black sheep_ of the family that’s corrupting him.

Jason didn’t care Bruce was probably right about Tim’s escape having something to do with him.

Just to gain a little time, Jason was about to appreciate how Bruce had just brushed off the entire ‘it's not an escape, he’s not a prisoner’ dilemma that tormented Dick, and admitted Tim actually **escaped** , which, quite frankly was a little worrisome; but then the Bat just had to add a short, “So have you,” and that split his focus.

_Right._

_Because the Bat is **super worried** about **my** wellbeing. _

Jason decided to ignore the final addendum and shrugged trying to act as nonchalant as possible. “Beats me,” he said looking at him straight to the eye, making Bruce glare a little at him.

Jason knew Bruce knew he was hiding something. And Bruce knew Jason was doing it on purpose.

He didn’t care. Bruce could fucking drive himself crazy trying to figure it out. He was not getting anything off him.

“According to Alfred, Tim’s behavior changed shortly after he found the two of you in his bedroom,” Bruce added and Jason wanted to scoff. He tried to get angry with Alfred from tattle-telling on them, but knowing him, he was probably just worried about his grandkids and while Jason couldn’t stand Bruce’s and Dick’s fake worry about him; he didn’t doubt Alfred’s affection. Not for a second.

No way he’s getting mad at Alfie.

And Bruce, the giant bastard, knew that; so he was probably just bringing it up to mess with Jason’s head. To make him confess that he hadn’t done anything. Bruce was probably thinking Jason had said something, messed with Tim, tried to fucking do something to drive him off their house.

Well, he hadn’t.

He hadn’t messed with the kid…

Ok, he hadn’t _purposefully_ messed with the kid…

Ok, he hadn’t purposefully _and maliciously_ messed with the kid.

There were a couple of times he had been trying to mess with him, but that was all in a very friendly, brotherly kind of way. But that was like, senior Robin prerogative.

Nothing messy.

So… “Nothing happened, B,” he replied honestly, trying to calm the Bat and finally managing to get rid of the anger.

"Nothing?" Bruce asked, earning himself a raised eyebrow and a sigh from Jason, and then he added, "There have been no developments in your _relationship_?”

He was about to sigh loudly and ‘kindly’ ask Bruce to _back the fuck off_ when his brain picked on the intonation of that last word.

It almost flew right over his head. He almost let his tiredness and exhaustion with the line of questioning make him overlook the way Bruce’s voice had dropped at that last part, how his eyes focused on him, how his body tensed as if he was dealing with an awkward and distasteful issue.

And then Jason’s brain broke.

Because…

“You’ve _got_ to be fucking kidding me!” he yelled as his brain got back online.

Did he _know_? Batman fucking _knew_. _How…?_

 _Oh, fuck that!_ He’s not going over the _how_ again. **_Fucking detectives_** _._

“What?” Bruce asked confused, probably baffled at his outburst. Probably because he’d been assuming, like every-fucking-one had, that he was the fucking asshole who just wanted to reject Tim.

“You _know_!” he growled taking a step and poking his finger on Bruce’s chest plate with enough force to push him a step back, the fire reigniting in his veins. “You fucking know about me and Tim!” he accused managing to keep his control long enough to growl lowly and not call everyone else’s attention to their conversation.

Bruce blinked twice, weighing him with a long stare, before he saw something and muttered a soft _‘Oh’_ that drove Jason near insanity and Bruce must have noticed it, because he immediately added,  “We should move this conversation.”

Jason wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. But again, Bruce fucking started walking past him, to take out his armor and move up to the Manor, leaving Jason trying to regulate his breath and get rid of the cold sweat that moved through his skin at the unreleased anger.

He counted to forty.

And then counted three more times until he felt his arm was no longer tingling with the need to shake the life out of the asshole. Then, he walked briskly following Bruce, who somehow was already off the suit and atop the staircase.

Dick turned around and Jason could see his intention to get in the way, so he stopped him with a glare. He could see it wasn’t appreciated, but Jason couldn’t fucking care right now.

Bruce fucking knew he was Tim’s soulmate.

He might not care about the _How_ , but Hell would fucking freeze before he lets Bruce have the last word about this.

Actually, if he had any say in this, Bruce would have _no_ word in his life, let alone in his soulmate life. So, he trailed along to his second office in the Manor and slammed the door shut glaring at Bruce.

_And, he better starts talking now, if he doesn't want a fucking scene._

Bruce turned around and stared at him, frowning slightly at the door.

Probably thinking about the old mahogany being damaged.

_Yes, because that’s what’s important here: The fucking Cuban wood._

Still, Bruce slowly turned his gaze to him, before starting. "I'll be blunt," he said commanding a strong presence and talking like he did on his mission briefings. "Yes, I know you and Tim and soulmates. I have known for a while and I assumed you both knew and decided to stay away. I agree with that, so I didn't mention anything."

\--

_Wh-_

“You _agree_?” Jason parroted back, trying to get his bearings at the info dump.

How _the hell_ did the supposedly _smartest people_ in the family not only fucking found out about his soulmate before him but also managed to arrive at a fucking array of insane conclusions?

Tim concluded he _must have rejected him_.            

Babs concluded _Tim_ must have been the one _to reject him_.

And now, Bruce concluded they _must have agreed to_ …

To what, exactly? _Act_ _like it wasn’t happening_? _Yes. Because that’s what Bats are good at. **Ignoring stuff**._

**_…_ **

**_Mother-Fucking. Detectives._ **

If _one of them,_ just one, had taken the time to get their heads out of their asses for _one fucking second_ and asked him… you know, the _soulmate!_... instead of running around with their stupid little fairytales and self-imagined realities, Jason would have found out about this bullshit ages ago and he would have dealt with it.

Why… God, why was it so hard for these people to just ask a fucking question directly?

He learned about the mark, and what's the first thing he does? _He tells the fucking soulmate!_

It’s not fucking rocket science!

Jason looked at Bruce and was winding up to dump all of that on his face, and berate him for not speaking when he decided to continue. "You and Tim shouldn't be together. This… It's not good. It will only bring you two pain and dissatisfaction; you're better separated."

Jason tried a smile, because… _what?_

That had to be a joke.

“Excuse me?” he said carefully to transmit a sense of simmering anger. Bruce was **not** suggesting what he seemed to be suggesting.

Fuck no.

He doesn’t get to decide what’s _good_ for Jason.

Bruce _does not_ get to decide what brings **_pain_** to him.

After a full second of a blank stare from Bruce, Jason breathed slow, feeling his lungs fill with heat, “I don’t know how to stress this enough, old man…,” he said slowly, accentuating the words and forcing himself to keep a soft calm to prevent the Pit from coming forth, “but you have _no_ _fucking_ _say_ in this.”

Bruce simply looked at him and made that humming noise he always did when he was dissatisfied, and it was fucking too much for Jason, “I fucking _mean it_. You-”

“You’re dangerous to him,” Bruce cut him off. Jason felt the skin on the back of his neck start to heat up as his eyes focused on Bruce’s icy blues.

“Fuck you,” he said, giving in to the fire and feeling the itching on his arms turn into liquid iron, burning his muscles. “Screw every- _fucking_ -one of you, _detectives_.”

“Jason,” Bruce tried and Jason took one step closer to him leveling him with a stare despite the extra inch Bruce still had over him.

He didn’t fucking care.

Bruce had no right.

He had no **_fucking_** …

“I am **_not_** a raging lunatic!” he yelled at him “Despite what you’ve been telling yourself, of your fucking mental image of me, I’ve never been insane! The Pit fucked me over, but I’m not some fucking lunatic going around wanting to hurt my soulmate! I’m _not!_ ” he yelled pushing Bruce once into the desk and feeling a cold elation at the physical touch, his veins screaming to just be done with the words and just wipe the disinterested expression of Bruce’s face.

“ ** _I_** get to decide what to do with this," he growled moving away before coming back to face Bruce, feeling the blank face getting under his skin. He knew he was pacing and he knew that vociferating his opinion might be undercutting his point, but he didn't fucking care. Bruce was not… "Everyone else can fucking take their opinions and shove them up…"

He didn't manage to finish when the door opened and Dick entered the room, without a knock, without even caring to pretend he didn't want to interrupt. "What's going on?"

Jason turned to look at Dick and the pieces started to fall on the fucking puzzle. “ _Of course,_ the Golden Boy is in on it too!” he growled looking at Dick, the idiot was probably the one who convinced Tim that Jason was just not interested in him. He was probably the one trying to keep them apart.

He wanted to keep them apart.

Jason felt the intensity of his rage increase and the borders of his sight were starting to tinge green, looking at the stupid face of the Once-and-Always Robin...

The eternal Good Boy.

Bruce’s _fucking lapdog_.

“You just can’t keep your fucking _muzzle_ out of other people’s business, can’t you?”

He moved to come close to Dick and, even in his state, he did manage to get the sense of discomfort, hurt and anger that flashed through Dick’s eyes, before he set on a pained gaze, “Dude, _what_? What the fuck is going on?”

_Oh, that’s how you’re playing it._

He scoffed and pointed at Bruce, who was staring at him, silently communicating something, but he ignored it “Bruce is _informing_ me,” he said, ignoring Bruce’s hard call of his name, “that he _decided_ I cannot have a relationship with Tim,” he said before turning to look at Dick and ask in a mockingly interested tone “I take it you agree?”

“Wait- what? You and Tim?” Dick looked stricken at that and turned to see Bruce before looking back at him, “Jason that’s… he’s your _brother!_ ” Jason scoffed at that feeling the anger flowing in waves in his skin.

God, he needed to hit someone.

His arms were aching to just turn around and launching himself at the stupid undaunted face of Bruce, who seemed to be just looking at a child’s tantrum.

Or at Dick, who looked sick to be hearing he might actually want to be with Tim.

_So what if he does?_

What if he fucking **_choses_** to actually _be with his **fucking soulmate**._

If anyone was supposed to understand it was- “It’s _wrong_ ,” Dick said, and Jason let out a dark laugh at that.

“Of course it is,” he said mockingly at Dick. At the fucking asshole who all the time is singing and dancing the beauties of Soulmate Loving, “ _This time,_ you get to shit on soulmates, right?” he called on him, on his fucking hypocrisy, “Everyone should get one. But, not Jason. He’s just a fucking rabid dog who can’t be trusted with his, right?”

God, he needed to hit someone. He needed to…

“What?” Dick’s voice brought him back to him and he seemed to be about to have a stroke. And normally Jason would have laughed at that. “Soul-”

And _then_ it clicked.

His confusion.

Bruce’s warning.

His discomfort at the idea of Tim and Jason.

…

He didn't know.

_Dick didn't know._

“Oh! Well, fucking _finally_ ," he said feeling a coolness wash over him, washing away the ambers of Pit rage, "Someone else didn't know!" he sighed feeling a little vindicated as the anger subsided, looking at Dick's confusion.

He might actually laugh a little about this.

Dick wasn't walking all over his beliefs, he just didn't know. He was in the dark just as Jason had been a couple of days ago. He might actually have an ally in all this bullshit.

“Apparently, everyone thinks my mark is a shitty puzzle with an obvious answer,” he told him, as he took off his leather brace and showed him the mark.

“You and Tim?” Dick asked still confused and Jason nodded looking at him, but then Dick’s face morphed seem to give way to something close to horror.

Disgust.

Jason felt the coldness increase in his bones, “It can’t be… You two are not… You can’t be his _soulmate_.” The cold set on his bones and Jason looked deflated at his _brother_.

Dick walked a step back, towards the door looking at Jason as if he was insane. As if his world had just spit out a monster and it was staring at him, and this time the anger didn't even come.

His chest started to feel heavy. He’s supposed to be angry. Righteous anger at the fucking assholes who are taking upon themselves the task of keeping the dangerous criminal from the virginal maiden. But he didn’t, he just felt cold.

They weren’t supposed to act like this.

They shouldn’t be…

_Tim’s not the only one who’s family._

“That’s great… Just _fucking awesome_ …” He wasn’t sure how the tears knotted themselves on his throat as he talked but…

This was…

_Fuck,_

“Jason,” he didn’t even care which one of them said it.

He was done with this.

He was done with everything here.

He turned to look at Bruce. At his parent. At the man who was supposed to support him and guide him, and who so far had actually managed to lead him into a battle, had him blown to pieces by a clown, had him being used as a pawn by his former lover… At the man who was right now telling him, he couldn't have his soulmate, because he was a fucking monster.

“Go to hell, Bruce,” he said tired, before turning to his brother.

“And you, Mr. _I believe in soulmates,_ ” he said walking to the door, not bothering to turn and look at them “Go ahead and follow him. Hypocritical asshole.”

He opened the door and walked down the stairs of the Manor.

_Home, yeah, right!_

He should've burned this fucking place the first time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. A couple things:
> 
> First things first, Over 500 Kudos!! And more than a 100 comments!! Thank you so much for your love and your support. I didn't think this story would be so well received, you have no idea how much it means to me. You are all incredibly kind and awesome!!!
> 
> We're about halfway through the story, so still quite a bit to go; I hope you like what's coming.
> 
> About Bruce and Dick, I don’t know if they look too OOC, especially Dick, but I will go over their actions in a later chapter.
> 
> So, next chapter, I’m going over to Damian’s POV, with a small one/two-days jump. Also: Clark and Jon show up, so please look forward to it… I should be posting it the first week of April…
> 
> Again, thank you so much for your comments and kudos.
> 
> Love, Mari.


	7. Chapter 7

Damian scowled at the screen. The reports from last night were infuriating.

Now that he thinks about it, the reports from the past five days have been infuriating. They all say variations of the same word: Nothing.

They’d managed to let five weapons capable of firing Artificial Kryptonite on the wind. And that was the conservative number.

After the information on the bust of Maroni’s headquarters had been analyzed, they came to realize that the incident _Drake_ allowed to get out of hand had only been one of two shipments of weapons. The bigger one, granted, but still, only one. Two days prior to it, an early shipment had arrived, it was meant as a good-will initial transaction of three weapons. The second had risen to twelve, and there were plans of a third shipment of 20+ weapons to be manufactured and shipped to Gotham in the coming days.

As many as thirty-five weapons that could kill his soulmate could have been set free on Gotham. And they had ten on safeguard, assuming Drake is not stupid enough to let his get stolen. That still left as many as fifteen weapons possibly on the wind.

Which was _not acceptable_.

And still, the infernal reports were stating just that. No one on Maroni’s crew had made a single move after their crackdown. Deadshot was nowhere to be seen. Star Labs and the Ali- _Mr. Kent_ had come empty, only signaling that the Kryptonite was behaving oddly, as it was also affecting humans. Which, considering the fact Drake was hit with it and ended up losing his energy for nearly three days, it wasn’t exactly _news_.

_Useless._

He’d spoken to Jon last night and he’d been struggling with being apart. It was expected of presenting soulmates to be together. It was expected that he should be by his side, but there was no way in hell he was letting Jon put a single foot on Gotham while those infernal weapons were in circulation. And he had tried to speak to Father about allowing a trip to Metropolis, but he’d refused using School as an excuse.

Luckily, it was Friday and he had the afternoon free from School today, so he should be able to go to Metropolis and stay with his soulmate from tonight, all weekend.

He’d been trying to occupy his mind so that the _lack of Jon_ didn’t distract him. It was an annoyance, but funny enough, it wasn’t something he’d come to dislike; on the contrary, while annoying, the constant reminder of _his soulmate_ was enough to calm his nerves.

He turned off the monitors and turned to look at the Cave, it was unusually empty. At this hour, just after noon, Grayson would normally be training with someone on the mats more often than not with Thomas or Todd; Father would be checking something on the computers, probably with Drake annoying him; Cain would be perched somewhere looking at them, maybe with Brown, maybe alone. Brown had become infinitely less aggravating since she was with Cain.

Today, though, it was just Father and him.

It reminded him of the time after he came back and they moved from the Penthouse back into the House. Drake had taken over the Penthouse, Cain and Brown were at the Clock Tower, and Todd… Todd had been off, somewhere…

Back then it was the two of them. Damian had liked that, he’d come to miss that. Lately, when they were all here, Damian usually snapped at them (Drake, mostly), demanding them to get lost. But now, the Cave felt too silent, too empty, and the eerie feeling he got from having this cavern all to the two of them somehow felt oppressing.

Even more so, if he thought about the reason most of the people were out…

Damian wasn’t sure what to think of it. Drake had _escaped_ to his Titans friends. First, he thought nothing of it, but now… Now he wasn't sure.

Then there was Todd, who’d exploded on Father and Grayson after revealing he was fated to Drake, which had been odd, to say the least.

Then Brown had acted weird about Todd and Drake being soulmates, so she and Cain had gone to the Clock Tower and hadn’t come back in two days.

Grayson was supposed to be here, but he’d been acting up too; yesterday, he’d been going from confused, to angry, to sad and back again. He’d been ranting about Drake and Todd. And quite frankly, the topic had become old really fast, so Damian had been avoiding him.

He was probably at the Warehouse in Blüd or maybe even in New York.

Thomas was doing something with the Lanterns. Something about training on constructs and managing his abilities.

So, right now, it was just Father and him.

Which should be good… Except it felt empty.

And then, as if responding to his mental divagation, a sound on the entrance of the Cave told them someone was coming, fast. He turned around curious as to the identity of the visitor when he saw Father lowering the cowl. Whoever was coming, wasn't expected. Damian went to the side to get a domino mask, cursing his lack of foresight. He wasn't in Robin's suit, just his favored black hoodie and dark jeans. He moved to the shadows to disappear from sight, but he stopped on his tracks hearing his father.

“Clark,” his voice sounded surprised, as he removed the cowl again and Damian moved a little closer, seeing the Kryptonian was actually wearing a plaid shirt and khaki pants looking exactly like _Clark Kent_ was supposed to look. So not official business. His father must have noticed too since he asked: "What are you doing here?"

“Tim asked me to come, said he needed my help?” Mr. Kent said, ending with a small question on his voice, as he went up to the computer looking around for something, probably Drake. He waved him when he spotted him and Damian came closer, confused as to why Drake would have asked Mr. Kent to show up unannounced at the Cave. His father must have had the same question on his mind as he was assessing the Alie- _Mr. Kent_ , something the Kryptonian obviously didn't care for, as he rolled his eyes at him, "I'm in the middle of my lunch break, Bruce, so if we could skip the glaring…"

Father simply hummed before answering, “Tim’s not-” but as he was about to inform him of his confusion, the computer beeped informing of an incoming call that was automatically connected. And even if he couldn’t exactly see the monitors from this angle, Damian didn’t need to be a genius to guess the caller. His father confirmed with a single word, “Tim,” he sounded aggravated.

He should.

Drake’s voice came booming from the Cave’s sound system, he sounded hurried “Hi Bruce, I- Oh! Hey, Clark! You arrived fast,” he said, probably seeing the Kryptonian on the video feed.

Mr. Kent shrugged and smiled as he said, “Hi Tim, your message sounded urgent.”

Father hummed and Drake must have noticed his displeasure, because he started talking immediately, “So, I need to make an experiment, and I need you two to- What?- No, Bart, They’re - Would you let me… Just a sec-” Drake, the _absolute embarrassment_ , had to cut his explanation short as he seemed to be reigning in Kid Flash.

Pathetic. After nearly four years, he’s still unable to run a tight ship on the Titans.

Damian walked up to the computer to see the monitor and found it empty, he turned seeing both Clark and his father looking surprised at the images. And while Damian would have understood a look of exasperation, Mr. Kent actually seemed endeared by Drake’s appalling inability to conduct a simple video call.

Half a second later, Drake’s face came back into the camera and Damian was surprised at noticing how _rested_ he looked. It might be the lighting on the image, but his face certainly lacked the _tiredness_ he’d been seeing in Drake. Then he realized the effects of the Kryptonite poisoning must have been waning for a while now.

Four days of recovery.

It wasn't terrible.

“Sorry. Sorry about that. Anyway, Bruce. I need to make a test. I- Could you bring out the Artificial K? It’s really hard to explain and would be easier if you both are there,” Damian focus snapped back to the image.

_Did Drake make a development?_

Star Labs and ~~the~~ _Mr. Kent_ had been drawing blanks from their tests… what could be…

He saw a silent communication pass through his Father and Mr. Kent and after half a second, the Kryptonian nodded and his father went to the side lab and extracted the lead box with the artificial Kryptonite.

Drake hummed from the other side of the line and looked up to the Kryptonian.

“Ok, first; Clark, do you trust me?” Damian looked up to Drake confused. That was a really bad first question to be asking. It’s the kind of question that would make reasonable people _doubt_ their trust in someone.  Still, not the ever trusting Kryptonian, because he was quick to answer a resounding “Yes, of course.”

Drake nodded, “Good. I need you to take out the kryptonite,” Damian looked from Mr. Kent to Drake, because, he _must be_ mishearing _…_ “No gloves, just grab-”

“Are you insane?” Damian snapped from his side, calling attention to himself, but he honestly didn’t care.

_What kind of test…?_

“Damian,” Drake said, probably just now noticing his presence in the Cave, because he looked at him and nodded before muttering, “Good, you can be the control, it probably won’t… you should get closer,” and while Damian did just that, he didn’t do it just to please Drake, but to make sure whatever insanity he was planning didn’t actually happened. “Please, Clark,” Drake continued, “I promise it will be ok.”

_No way._

Damian looked at his Father who looked like he was sharing his doubts about whatever test Drake seemed to be thinking about. But before any of them had any chance for a rebuttal, Mr. Kent actually hummed, nodded and moved to grab the box.

_Is he insane?_

Fortunately, Father was there and he raised his hand, stopping Kent in his tracks with a hard “Wait-”

The Kryptonian looked at him confused, and they shared a short silent conversation in which his Father glared and Mr. Kent actually rolled his eyes at him, “Bruce, he says-”

Father cut him off, looking at Drake. "What do you know?" he asked. It was a sensible question. Whatever misgivings he might have, Drake probably had some sort of a plan here.

Still, he simply hummed “Know? Nothing. I have a theory, but I need a real-” he stopped himself looking panicked to the side for a second before amending “a _not-genetically engineered pure-blooded_ Kryptonian… to check it,” he finished looking off-camera, probably to his _not-pure-blooded,_ and definitively _genetically engineered_ Kryptonian.

Damian grinned at that. _Oh, you’re in so much trouble, Drake._

But still, the answer was far below par, so of course, his Father shook his head, "No," he sentenced. Of course not. It was stupid.

Still, the Kryptonian was looking at Bruce and biting his lip, “Come on, Bruce, this is fine,” he said after half a second and his Father turned to look at him, “Worst case scenario, this _is_ Kryptonite and you can just put it back in the lead,” he tried to reason and Damian wasn’t exactly convinced about it…

But still, the Kryptonian seemed certain about it and Drake was flashing him a grateful smile saying again how he wouldn’t put Mr. Kent on danger. That seemed to do it for his father, as he took his hand from the lid of the box.

Damian held his breath as Mr. Kent walked to it and slowly opened it, just hesitating for a second, before taking the lid and grabbing the green rock. He held it out and Damian still couldn’t breathe, looking at Mr. Kent.

His sight became both extremely focused on Mr. Kent, and at the same time, he blurred everything around, as he was hyperfocused on the reactions of the man. He seemed normal, he was looking strangely at the rock. Damian let his hip rest on the computer as he kept looking at Mr. Kent.

“Anything?” he heard his Father’s voice, but it sounded quite far away, even if he was just a few feet away from him. Damian hummed and turned to look at him, but the sudden movement destabilized him for a second and Damian looked back at his body. He was…

"No? I mean, I feel good?" Mr. Kent was talking, but Damian was hearing him funny. Kind of like he'd heard Grayson that time he'd insisted they spoke to each other through metal cans… something about children games…

It was stupid…

This…

He didn't feel good.

The groan on his throat was everything but conscious and he heard Drake speaking hurriedly on the background as Damian was forced to grab the side of the table to ease himself and then a strong arm was holding him. “Damian?” he looked at his father and he was looking back at him with worry on his eyes.

Damian tried to tell him he was fine, but Drake was talking and his father was talking back, and he seemed angry, but…

“…didn’t know he’ll react that badly to it…” Drake was saying, something else and then it clicked in his mind. He’d been affected by the kryptonite. _Why? It hadn’t been fired, it had…_

"It's not Kryptonite," the alien said, and Damian focused on his voice, "But, it reads just like it…" he started talking about something… tests… and Fortress. His father was still participating in the conversation, his eyes not leaving Damian. He shook himself and stood tall, nodding at his father.

He looked at Drake and he was looking with pity at him. He flipped him off and the idiot had the gall to smile what he thought was sheepishly and apologize.

_Well, not accepted._

"So, I was 'control' because it affects people?" he asked, already coming to the obvious conclusion.

“Well, kind of. I wasn’t sure it would affect you; I was actually measuring Bruce and Clark, but you’ve actually given me a working theory that…” Drake shook his head and stopped himself “I’m getting ahead of myself,” he said, going back on track, “It had been bothering me for a while, what would Sal Maroni want with a truckload of weapons to kill Kryptonians? He’s not moving to Metropolis and it’s not like there’s a market for that in Gotham. With how zealous we are about outside help, Gotham should be the last place for these, unless…”

"The weapon itself is not designed to affect Kryptonians," Father finished.

Damian looked at Drake, it was a sensible rationale. He’d been so worried about the fact that there was a weapon that could hurt Jon in Gotham, he hadn’t actually stopped to ask himself _why_ _would there be a weapon that could hurt Jon in Gotham_.

The weapon was here, so the _why_ hadn’t actually mattered to him.

“Nope,” Drake replied popping the ‘p’, “It mimics the effect of Kryptonite on humans and they’re doubly effective on metahumans… Well, metahumans and enhanced individuals, probably, seeing how Damian was doubly affected… So, my working theory is that these were brought in to get _us_ ," and then Damian hummed that made sense… it also made sense why he would be more affected; they hadn't known exactly what her mother had done to him on those tubes and he had already gained powers for some time, so, while not exactly meta-human, or properly and enhanced individual, he wasn't exactly _normal_ human either.

Still, one problem with that and his Father was quick to point it out, “We’re not metahumans,” he said. While the idea of having weapons to target humans made sense in Gotham, if they were aimed at metahumans, it was more likely to be a weapon for some different purpose.

But Drake shook his head, “I know, but… Deadshot was certain the weapon would be his triumph card when he shot me with it. And… well… come on, Bruce, I _know_ you are aware of the comments and conspiracy theories about us, right? You have to know at least one,” Drake said and it took Damian a second know what he was talking about.

Most people outside of the community -and even people within the superhero community- were certain the Bats had some sort of superpower. The theories abounded.

"Like the one that Batman is secretly a vampire who has a cohort of young boys he's given eternal life to?" Mr. Kent said with a grin looking at his Father, who turned around to stare at him and Damian hummed displeased, "Yeah, I've heard those too," Mr. Kent finished.

Damian had as well.

And he'd also heard about what the supposed _cohort of young boys_ was supposed to _be_ to his Father. He shuddered to think about the comments on _these_ forums.

Drake actually chuckled at that and added, “I like the one about the early settlers, the ones that tried to burn a witch and ended up cursed to roam the streets punishing criminals for all eternity.”

Damian hummed at that finally feeling himself with enough energy to stand tall. He refused to agree with Drake out loud, but he also liked that one. It was poetic, dark and it had scared a lot of thugs who’d heard it and ran away screaming about not wanting to be cursed.

It was almost as good as… “The Jersey Devil,” he added without thinking.

His father shot him a disapproving look but he refused to be the only one bullied into feeling bad about this so he held the stare while Drake chuckled and his father looked all but ready to give up.

“Oh! Superman in disguise,” Mr. Kent added with a snap of his fingers and a grin aimed at his Father. Damian actually chuckled at the absurdity of _Mr._ _Kent_ bringing _that one_ up. And, then, Father was obviously done with this, because he moved his cape and growled an " _Enough_." that actually didn't faze any of the present, but was effective to end the conversation.

Damian moved back a little and let Mr. Kent, Father and Drake talk about the consequences of that finding and communicating them to the people of Star Labs.

Thinking about consequences, Damian thought about the only one he cared: If the weapons didn't affect Kryptonians, Jon was no longer in danger. Which meant, Jon could come to Gotham tonight, instead of him having to go to Metropolis. It was incredibly easier for his love to make the trip in fifteen minutes than for Damian to make the three-hour ride.

He took out his cellphone and wrote a quick text to Jon.

**_Me_ **

_Jon, Gotham is no longer an off-zone. Would you join me at the Manor for the weekend? - 1:15 p.m._

It took a second for the message to be checked and replied and Damian felt himself smile as he read the “ _Jon Kent is typing…_ ” message

**_Jon Kent_ **

_Rlly? Cool! – 1:15 p.m._

_Lemme ask Dad!! – 1:15 p.m._

Damian sighed at the _text-speech_ Jon insisted on using but had already decided it was wasted time to try and correct him.

**_Me_ **

_He is here, at the Manor, I’ll ask him for you. - 1:15 p.m._

**_Jon Kent_ **

_Huh? whts he dooing there??? – 1:15 p.m._

**_Me_ **

_*What* he is *doing* is helping Drake with a test that proved the weapons are not dangerous to your kind. - 1:16 p.m._

**_Jon Kent_ **

_Wtvr!! Grammar NAZI!!!– 1:16 p.m._

_Yeah! Ask him!!!!! – 1:16 p.m._

**_Me_ **

_You are insufferable. - 1:16 p.m._

Damian had to fight off the smile as he looked up and saw Mr. Kent looking at his clock, probably thinking about wrapping up their meeting. True enough, just a moment later, he cut Drake off and moved to the side. Damian decided to walk up to him.

“Mr. Kent,” he called and the man turned to look at him, with a questioning gaze. Damian cleared his throat, suddenly unsure on how to bring up… “Considering this… change in circumstances…” he said motioning at the monitors and the fake kryptonite, “I would like you to allow Jon to visit, spend the weekend,” he asked looking straight at him, “It’s not a school night,” he added just in case.

Mr. Kent looked at him, tilting his head and hummed unsure, “Spend-” he turned to look at his father, “Uhm… Bruce?” and Damian felt a little irked at the fact the Kryptonian thought he needed to check on his Father to agree. He was more than capable of making his own decisions about _who_ he invited to _his house._

Fortunately for him, his Father was looking equally confused at the Kryptonian and added "It's not a school night," confirming Damian's last statement, and thus, validating his point.

So there.

Still, Mr. Kent seemed unsure as he shifted from feet to feet, looking back at Damian, “Right,” he muttered, “Uhm… and he would stay… in your bed- room. In your bedroom, right?” Damian frowned at that.

_What…_

"As usual, yes," he replied confused at the Kryptonian's odd concern. Jon always has stayed in his bedroom and he's always stayed at Jon's bedroom when he's at Metropolis. It had never been brought up before. In a panicked second, he thought maybe Jon had complained about it to Mr. Kent, so he added, "Unless he feels the need for privacy. I _think_ we could accommodate," he added just a little condescending. The Manor had enough rooms to accommodate both their extended families and then some…

The Kryptonian seemed still unconvinced, "Right. Well… It's… I mean…"

Damian clicked his tongue frankly annoyed at this.

Jon had been barred from coming here, to being with his soulmate, for a whole week after presenting. He’d had to get by just with texts and the nightly video call, and now that he’s finally allowed back…

“Is there a problem?” he asked, “He has stayed before. You’ve _forced him_ to stay before,” he said, remembering the beginning of their relationship.

"Yeah, well… You… You're 15, right? He… He's just 13, and I don't… I-," Mr. Kent was making no sense, but still, he turned to his Father and pleaded, actually pleaded to him "Bruce, a little help here." Damian turned to his father, who was looking at Mr. Kent and he had the beginning of a smile to his face, which he quickly erased and hummed thoughtfully.

As if Jon staying here was a problem and whatever the hell the _Alien_ had been going on about, actually made sense. He mentally controlled himself.

_It wasn’t the Alien. It was Mr. Kent, he’d promised Jon he’d try._

“What is the _problem_?” he asked trying to control his temper, but then he heard a snicker, an _actual snicker_ coming from the computer, where Drake ( _Hadn’t he hung up yet?_ ) was looking at him with amusement.

“Demon Wonder, I think- I _think_ ," he said with laughter very patent on his voice, "Clark's afraid for his kid's virtue."

_What?_

“What?” he asked confused.

Surely the times where Mr. Kent worried about Damian being a negative influence in Jon had come and gone ages ago. He couldn’t still believe that a sleepover was actually going to corrupt his _sweet little angel._ Not to mention they were fated to one another.

But then Drake was snickering and Clark looked flushed at Drake as he'd somehow betrayed him and his father kept twisting the edge of his lips like he's actually containing from smiling too… Damian felt a little betrayed at that.

His Father should be the one defending him.

He should be telling _the Alien_ he had no place, thinking his son is an influence in his sweet little…

And then he paused.

_Oh!_

“Oh,” he said suddenly feeling a little hot himself “You are talking about sexual intercourse,” Mr. Kent’s visible shift and Drake’s nasal snort were enough to confirm this was the case.

_Right._

He’d forgotten Americans were weird about this. People at school were the same. Always letting their hormones and their _cocks_ dictate their thoughts. Shameful.

“Yes, that should not be an issue anymore,” he said dismissively, looking at them trying to calm them down. As soon as he’d seen his mark and noticed Jon had presented with him, he’d taken care of that. Jon had acted all weird at first, but then…

“What?!”

Three set of voices bellowed at the same time and Damian had to take a step back because… _What?_

And then a horrible screeching came through the computer and he saw as Drake was pushed aside, and the enraged face of the Clone occupied half the screen as he pointed a menacing finger at him, “I _swear to God_ , kid! If you touched _a hair_ of- Ow, ow- Jesus, Tim! What the-" The Clone made a pained face and moved pushed by Drake out of the screen and he heard a couple yells he couldn't quite make, before Drake appeared back on screen, looking serious at the screen, "Sorry about that."

_What in the Devil’s name…?_

He looked around and Mr. Kent and his Father were torn between looking confused at him and staring horrified at the screen… or was it looking horrified at him and staring confused at the screen?  

He wasn’t exactly sure.

They all stood there silent for a while, while Damian tried to wrap his head around the insanity that was taking place.

“What do you mean, Damian?” Father asked him cautiously and Damian looked at him confused.

“I- I talked about it with Jon, right after presenting our marks,” he explained, trying to ignore the murderous look from Mr. Kent, “We want to keep our chastity until we’re both of age. I trust both of us to keep our promise,” he finished quickly. It was proper and it was traditional amongst soulmates, wasn’t it?

He knew American culture was a little weird about it and people danced about the concept of sexual intercourse, but he had no problem dealing with it and establishing parameters.

It was just _proper_.

Still, Bruce and Mr. Kent were looking at him stunned and Damian felt that weird feeling he definitively had not been missing for the past couple of years, a feeling like he’d somehow _missed_ something important from the conversation. It had happened a lot during his first years after arriving in the USA. He'd felt so extremely _weird_. And whatever Grayson thought, School hadn’t helped with that.

And now… Now Drake was making stupid sounds and he turned again to the screens and felt his veins flare up, “What is so _funny,_ Drake?" he yelled looking at him, angry and out of place.

And the asshole just broke and let out a deep belly laugh, "Oh, my God, kid! Oh, God, you're priceless!" he managed to breathe out in between howlers, making Damian feel even more uncomfortable, "Bruce, _please_ tell me this call was being recorded. Oh, God, you had us… Clark, your face! Both your faces-" Drake laughed all through the phrases and was nearly crying at the end until Father cut his connection off. 

“Ignore him,” he said, and Damian hummed.

“Sound advice for every occasion,” he muttered, still not managing to grasp the joke, nor being able to get rid of the uneasiness. “So…,” he asked turning to Mr. Kent, who somehow seemed a lot more composed. Still, Damian felt the need to leave the cave, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"Yes, Damian, I'll talk to Jon and ask him…" he said after a couple of seconds of silent communication with his father.

“Good,” Damian turned around leaving the Cave towards the Manor, trying to wrap his head around what was so _damn funny_.

He decided to ignore it, and the pit in his stomach.

He needed to finish his homework and maybe hone his drawing skills.

The gardener Alfred had hired the last three months showed promising talent with the upkeep of the plants and they'd blossomed pleasantly. He'd been meaning to paint and draw the images for a couple of weeks now and this morning he'd caught himself staring at them as he drank his tea.

It would make for a good present for Jon, a painting of the garden sights from his window.

Determined by that thought, he doubled the speed to his room, to finish his chores and have time to have something to show Jon tonight, definitively not thinking of Drake and the echo of his laughter.

-_-_-_-_-

“Dami!” the voice boomed from the outside and Damian stood from his place in the window, where he had a perfect view to the garden and turned to the window in time for seeing the figure of his soulmate flying down to him.

 "Jon," he muttered feeling a warmth spreading in his body just from that name. His soulmate, his… ‘ _Taw’m alruwh_ ’. He remembered Mother telling him about it, about two people sharing a soul. About the connections that stemmed from the marking on people’s skins. Damian hadn’t really considered it to hold much merit until he met Jon and then presented.

He’d finally understood the depth of that connection.

Jon sped up to him and enveloped him in a tight hug that actually caught one of his arms against his chest and pressed him uncomfortably for a second, but he discarded that feeling, focusing on the warmth that exploded inside of him at being hugged by his love.

“God, I missed you so much!” Jon said, turning them in the air before letting him go and moving into the room, “Can you believe them? We present and then they tell us to stay apart for a whole week!” he pouted at the room, “So unfair!”

Damian smiled at him and while he agreed with Jon, he also remembered his feelings about the idea of having Jon near those Kryptonite weapons. “It was a week, Jon,” he tried to dismiss it.

“Yeah,” Jon agreed, “a whole week! I missed you…” he pouted harder looking at him and Damian walked over to the bed and sit next to him, their shoulders bumping.

“We talked every day,” he said again, downplaying it, even though he was very tempted to agree with Jon.

“It’s not the same and you know it,” his soulmate said and Damian hummed unconvinced, “And I know you missed me too,” he said smiling intertwining their fingers. Damian rose an eyebrow, challenging him and Jon just grinned “I’m your soulmate, I _know_ you,” he said placing his hand on Damian’s chest, right above their mark.

Damian felt his own face heating up, so he clicked his tongue and moved away muttering “Nonsense,” as Jon laughed in the bed. He tried to feel offended, but he couldn’t muster the emotion, his face betraying his feelings and a smile forming to match Jon’s grin.

"So, anything new?" Jon said and Damian went back to his landscape, knowing Jon wouldn't mind keeping him company while he drew. Damian decided to keep the fact that he means to gift the drawing to him, hopefully, Jon will be happy when he learns it and he'll smile at him. It had become one of Damian's favorite goals, making Jon smile just for him.

The general outlines of the plants were done, so he started to move on to some general details of the shrubbery, while he talked about the last week and listened to Jon’s stories.

They moved quite fast from the schools to stuff from the house, and Damian told him how he'd had to take Alfred the cat to the veterinary because he was getting sick, and also about the time Cain actually sleepwalked into the kitchen and didn't wake until she was halfway through her tea. No one had realized she was asleep until she shook herself, nearly spilling half her tea and looked wildly at everyone.

He was thinking what to tell him next, as Jon reenacted some nonsense that had happened at school, to a couple of kids that had presented their soulmarks, when he remembered that apparently Todd and Drake had also presented, which had made Todd mad at Father and Grayson, so he told Jon about it, in passing, as he narrated the story; but his love, instead of continuing, stood there frozen for a second, before his brain caught up.

“Whoa! Slow down…” Jon screamed zipping in the air and hovering just inches from his face with a shocked look, that threw Damian off, “Your brothers _presented_?! To _each other_?!”

Damian was about to gloss over that, not willing to recognize he was actually invested in Jon's story, but he could see how the news could be considered important to Jon. He had taken the news on a stride since it didn't exactly affect him. He'd felt odd at first thinking about them, but before he'd had a chance to address it, Father and Grayson had made their thoughts on the matter quite evident. And while it had initially created a weird uneasiness in his stomach to hear them talking about keeping them apart, he had deferred judgment to Father and Grayson.

“Apparently. I have yet to confirm it, but Father’s convinced they’re soulmates,” he shrugged laying back on the chair and looking at Jon. He let his feet on the ground and was looking confused at Damian, probably thinking over it.

“God, it has to be weird… presenting to your brother…” Jon mused out loud looking at him, his previous story probably forgotten and Damian hummed sadly at the prospect of not knowing what had happened to his Jon’s classmates. Then he focused on what Jon said. It _had_ been weird. But then again, the two of them weren’t exactly what most people would call _siblings_. While they had the same adoptive father, the time they’d spent together has never been truly _brotherly-like_.

“Well… They were never really… brotherly,” he told Jon and he rose an eyebrow at him unconvinced, and Damian tried to look at this from Jon’s perspective. Jon would probably freak out if he was mated to the Clone. He scrunched his nose and mentally berated himself from feeling ire at a self-inflicted mental image. Even then… thinking of the Clone made another thought cross his mind, “Does it bother you?” he asked softly at Jon.

It was no secret Jon and the Clone’s relationship wasn’t the best. According to the few stories he’s able to gather, Mr. Kent had not been exactly welcoming to the Clone when he first showed up and it had taken quite a lot for the kid to prove himself. It had made it weird for Jon and his sibling, but Damian knew Jon still loved the Clone and he loved having a brother.

And based on the Clone’s reaction earlier today, he seemed very protective of Jon.

But…

But if Drake and Todd are soulmates, then… “This probably ends Drake’s relationship with your… _brother,_ ” he elaborated as he saw Jon looking at him weirdly.

“What are you talking about?” he asked evidently confused and Damian felt his own heart sink for a second. He might have spoken out of turn. If there’s a reason why they’re hiding this from Jon…

_Well, tough luck, Drake! You should've warned us if you were keeping it a secret._

“Drake and the Cl- _Conner_ ,” he corrected at the last second, seeing Jon’s gaze sour at his slip. He hated people referring to the Clone as such. But then Jon looked confused again and shook his head.

“Tim and Kon are just friends. Kon’s dating Cassie,” he said confidently as he sat on the bed again, facing him. Damian took in the information and contrasted it with his own evidence, Todd and Grayson’s teasing… He’d believed them that Drake was dating someone else…

He…

_He really doesn’t care, honestly._

So he took a wider pencil to redraw the outlines of the trees and shrubbery now that some of the details were done, “Anyway, they presented, Father’s decided they shouldn’t be together and it’s causing Todd to overreact,” he continued talking to Jon, narrating what’s been happening in the house, but, again, Jon’s outraged yell, surprised him, “What!?”

Damian turned to see Jon looking at him wildly and a little bit angry, honestly; which threw Damian off.

_What?_

“Dami, he can’t do that!” Jon exclaimed standing up and looking at him, looking conflicted and about to be taken by anger. Damian explored his face for a second trying to gather what exactly was the problem here.

“He’s protecting them,” he said, recalling Grayson’s words. It ticked him a little that they proclaimed they were protecting _Drake_ when in all honesty, the one that sounded more likely to get hurt out of the two of them would be Todd.

But then again, he'd thought that because he believed Drake to be in another relationship with the Clone… And the fact that Drake had thick skin and an ability to compartmentalize emotions that rivaled Father's, as much as he does loathe to admit it. 

In his mind, Todd would be the one more likely to suffer in an eventual falling out of the two of them.

Of course, they were focusing on the physical side, where Todd could definitively present a real danger to Drake, but, ever since getting rid of the Pit influence, Todd had taken to mending bridges with everyone; funnily enough, with Drake, more than anyone else.

_Or maybe it wasn't a coincidence. Maybe it was subconscious._

“Protecting them. By keeping them from their _soulmate_?” Jon asked in a sarcastic voice and bringing him back to the conversation; Jon seemed to have moved from surprise to anger and disappointment, which, really, had nothing to do with Damian-

“And you’re ok with this?”, he continued in a voice that left no doubt there was a _right_ _answer_ to that question and that getting it wrong would mean Jon would bite his head off with a rant.

_So much for not having anything to do with me…_

One look at Jon and he knew he couldn’t just say that he trusted his Father’s judgment, which he did. He couldn’t bother to act offended on behalf of Todd and Drake, because really… he wasn’t. He could just shrug. And that’s actually what he did.

“I have no opinion on the matter…” he said grabbing a blade and slowly sharpening his pencil. He needed to start with the thinner lines of the leaves and some of the details of the trunk.

Jon scoffed at him, “You can’t… Come on, Dami!” he said indignant and Damian sighed slowly, his idea of not getting mixed up on this flying off the window. He put the blade and the pencil down and turned to face Jon, who was looking at him, almost imploring and that tinge of anger, and something Damian wasn’t exactly sure… _sadness?_ “How would you feel, if your father decided that I’m dangerous to you?” Jon tried, making one of Damian’s eyebrows rise at the example, “What if he feels the need to protect you from me? Huh? What would you do?”

_Challenge him._

He surprised himself with how easy that thought came to him. He tried to rationalize it, to say to himself that he would reason with Father. That he’ll try to change his mind and that he would see his point and try to counter argue. He even tried to scoff the idea of Jon being considered dangerous, but, the only idea that came to him, at the thought of having Jon taken from his side, was to challenge anyone who tried.

"You have to talk to him, Dami!" Jon said, seemingly noticing Damian had arrived at the concussion he'd wanted him to. "Tim… he's- I know you two have your fights and your _things_ , but, he’s awesome, Dami. You know he is. And he’s been so good to me, to us… he deserves to be with his soulmate! So does Jason. I mean, I haven’t really talked to him much, but everyone deserves to be with his soulmate!”

Damian looked at Jon looking so earnest at that and felt a shiver down his spine. He clicked his tongue before addressing the most pressing issue.

“First, you’re no longer my soulmate. I refuse to have a soulmate who thinks _Drake_ is _awesome_ ," he deadpanned with a raised eyebrow, making Jon chuckle and finally getting rid of that sadness in his eyes before Damian got serious, "And, second, fine, I'll talk to Father," he finished, a little unconvinced.

Father was usually really thorough about his decision-making process. If he's decided that Todd and Drake don't belong together he probably already assessed the situation.

Father is not letting himself be guided by his own heartbreak about not being with his loved one. He’s not letting his discomfort at seeing two men he thinks as his sons, being chosen by fate. He’s not letting his own past with Todd cement an irrational decision about their future and happiness. He’s not… probably…

He’s more likely to be assessing this situation with information and optics that Damian just does not have. He’s looking ahead into the future and choosing the path that is most beneficial for all of them.

That’s what he has to be doing. Damian can’t just… accept his Father is letting petty feelings get in the way of two soulmates. He has to have a reason.

But if Jon wants him to… If it means so much to him, he will talk to him and tell him that he considers soulmates to be fated, that they belong together.

And Father will probably take his opinion into account and he’ll measure it into his scenario.

Damian has no control on the outcome, so he’ll…

“Good,” Jon said, completely oblivious of Damian’s misgivings about this, but he decided to smile at his soulmate, as he grinned brightly at him, proud. “He can’t just keep soulmates _apart_ ," he finished as if the thought was horrendous to him.

It probably was.

But Damian was not going to bring that up. So he decided to turn around and finish that conversation on that note, as he continued to softly press the pencils on the paper, creating barely present shades of grey that would allow him to further the perspective of the trees and the shrubbery.

Jon settled in a hover just behind him, humming and commenting, and while Damian hated other people watching him draw, and even more so, if they offered commentary, Jon’s voice was just on the right side of pleasant, that it centered him and he found himself digressing with him over the benefits and pitfalls of certain techniques.

Before he even noticed it, the natural light had faded completely and he had to move from the window to finish his work the next day.

Sometime along the drawing, Pennyworth had come by to leave a tray of biscuits and beverages and Damian moved to it to grab a couple of buttery pastries he shared with Jon. After they finished, Jon decided that they needed to watch a movie, so Damian moved to the bathroom to change into his nightly clothes, trusting Jon with his bedroom while he did so.

He didn't even consider it, until after he was brushing his teeth.

He wouldn't trust anyone with his bedroom. Not even Father. Barely even Pennyworth. But, when leaving to change, he hadn't even had to make the conscious effort, he'd just left Jon there, alone and unsupervised.

It twisted something inside of him, which felt suspiciously like Grandfather’s disappointment, but he quashed it as he rationalized that his love actually deserved that trust. He’s the one that does. They were _soulmates_. They were _one_. ‘ _Taw’m alruwh_ ’

So he left him in his room alone and when he came back in he didn't bother to canvass the room, feeling safe by the knowledge his soulmate had been here. He was a little surprised when he saw Jon already climbed on the bed, clad in his nightly clothes, setting the TV with some old cartoon movie.

After a little fight over the side they’ll sleep on, Damian settled for the left, after Jon complained about an inexistent draft, but Damian felt guilty about mocking him, so he folded.

The movie submerged him quite fast, as the story picked up and he ended up enjoying it, while also quietly feeling a little smile creep on him as he saw Jon react eagerly to every scene. The smile didn’t move from his face as they turned off the TV and Pennyworth came by to bid them good night and ask them not to stay up too late.

As if reacting to that, Jon yawned openly as soon as Pennyworth left, earning a chuckle from Damian, which turned into a laugh as Jon seemed embarrassed by it. Damian kissed him in the forehead, before removing the covers and settling in for the night.

Jon quickly laid down on his side, facing him and motioned him to do the same. Facing his love, Damian started talking softly to Jon about the movie and then the subject moved to school, and family, and it waned away as sleep won the battle against Jon’s will.

Damian couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his sleeping soulmate. ‘ _Taw’m alruwh_ ’

“You keep saying that… what does it mean?” Jon asked sleepily, bringing Damian to realize he’d muttered out loud. He refused to let himself be ashamed by that. He shouldn’t. Jon was safe. He was the one person who was fated to make him feel safe. So he just clicked his tongue, trying to find a way to put the concept into words.

There was the literal translation which- “it’s… it’s like soul. An incorporeal… _bond_ , a _something_ , within a person that transcends… matter,” he tried to precise… to… define what it was, but it still felt empty.

Because it wasn’t just that… it is what _he was_. And it was their _bond_. It is the fact that Damian was within him. It was the fact that he felt Jon as such an intrinsic part of himself, that even if his body could cease to exist he would still _be_ because he is Jon and Jon is him. They share something bigger, something immaterial, and larger than themselves.

And, English, despite being such a rich language, still lacked that… depth, forged by centuries of refining and perfecting a word to express hundreds of ideas and condensing them into characters.

English words had a _meaning_ ; Arabic words had a _sense_ , a _purpose_.

But Jon’s hands were on his cheek and he looked on those beautiful blue oceans opening up to him, with a soft smile.

“It’s soulmate,” Jon surmised and while Damian’s first instinct was to scoff at the idea; to reject the simplification of such a concept to a word that was pretty much nothing more than a buzzword in American magazines, he stopped himself when he saw the depth of Jon’s feelings, when he saw how much being his soulmate meant to him and he felt all of that conveyed in that small touch of his hand, Damian only clicked his tongue.

“It’s a bit _more_ than that,” he said, still unwilling to cede that point. Jon smiled at him and trailed his jawline with his hand, leaving a soft tingling on Damian’s skin that had him close to begging for more. But he wasn’t greedy. And Jon’s touch was too precious for him to indulge carelessly. So he let the hand move away, and Jon tucked it under the sheets as he pulled them to his chest, still laying sideways, facing each other.

It was odd, how content he felt just being here, close to Jon, facing him as they laid ready to sleep. Which reminded him, "I'll turn off the lights," he muttered before turning around and turning off every light in the room, only the moonlight serving as illumination for them.

He went back to his position, as Jon closed his eyes. Damian hummed pleasantly at the sight of his _soulmate_ , bathed by the silver rays.

_I haven’t painted him like this._

He felt a tremble in his hand, the need to grab his pencils and draw an outline, but he fought it. He simply stayed there, looking at his soulmate. Basking on the idea of having Jon just _there_. His Grandfather would have an aneurysm if he knew how soft and pliable his will had become, how he was settling just for an emotion, instead of pursuing a mate more befitting of his stature.

But he couldn’t. Jon belonged to him and he belonged to Jon just as much. He belonged here. With Jon’s warm body heating up his bed as he drifted himself to sleep. With Jon’s grins bringing out smiles from his lips and with his simple presence easing his mind.

And thinking that make the pit in his stomach grow darker and heavier, the same way he’d felt the first time he’d heard of Father’s and Grayson’s plan of keeping Todd and Drake apart.

That feeling…

Looking at Jon’s peaceful face bathed on moonlight, Damian realized he’d been wrong. His father was wrong. And while the chances of that were absolutely abysmal, it was true.

“I couldn’t…” he muttered, and Jon opened his eyes, looking at him questioningly. “If Father asked me to stay away from you… I couldn’t… I wouldn’t,” he confessed.

Jon looked at him still confused and Damian sighed, looking at those eyes, finally deciding on a course of action. “I’ll talk to him. And Grayson,” he said Jon, who straightened in bed, probably remembering their previous conversation. “I’ll help Drake and Todd,” he finished, convinced.

He had to.

Father had ingrained in him a need to do _right_. Separating two soulmates wasn’t. It was far too cruel. Father was letting a misjudgment orient his actions. His own decision, his own past experiences about soulmates and whatever it was that oriented his interactions with Jason were driving him to the wrong course of action.

The same with Grayson.

Probably.

He was harder to assess.

Drake deserved a chance at having his soulmate. So did Todd.

So did him. And looking at Jon, he knew they couldn't be together if the shadow of a broken bond was constantly present in the family. Not when he would have stayed on the sides, watching as they broke it.

Jon wouldn't forgive him for it.

Still…

"It's mostly helping Drake, though; I'm sure Todd could do better," he finished with conviction. Todd had enamored even Mother and while he'll never ease himself into _that_ image, he also refused to think her taste ran on the same level as someone like _Drake_.

Even if Grandfather actually thought him worthy.

_Madness._

“You’re horrible,” Jon said with a pitying voice and a frown, perfectly suitable to speaking about Drake’s lover, but he knew Jon probably just meant it as a nag, to prevent him from voicing his thoughts on Drake’s suitability.

So Damian just rose an eyebrow at him, challenging his assessment.

"And yet, you love me," he cut in his love's frown earning himself a bright smile as Jon's cheeks turn softly pink, barely noticeable in the silver lightning. Jon was looking in his eyes, probably for signs of mockery, but finding none.

Of course, he didn't, Damian would never mock the love from his fated one.

“I do, I’ll always love you, my _ru’hi,_ ” Damian hummed closing in on the bed, for a kiss on the forehead, as he set himself another new task: he’ll need to help Jon learn Arabic.

His pronunciation was disastrous.

Honestly, horrendous.

It was also a sound that carved itself into his heart and filled him with a sense of pride and warmth he didn't quite know what to do with, so Damian didn't even try to fight the smile that settled on him as he gazed at his soulmate, slowly laid back in the bed, to be swayed into a calm sleep by the warm presence of his love and the fiery determination in his veins.

He’ll help Drake. He’ll fight for someone else’s soulmate.

It was the _right_ thing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> I know many of you wanted to know what happened to Jason and to continue right with the story, but I wanted to take a little time and show different views than just the two main characters. 
> 
> Also, side note: I feel Tim ends up looking kind of like an asshole here, but remember: 1) He’s the older brother and older brothers and kind of... well, Dicks, and 2) this is Damian’s POV, so I find it normal that "Drake" isn’t seen from the best of lights.
> 
> Speaking of which, next chapter: Tim POV. (Should be up by mid-April)


	8. Chapter 8

"Uhm, Tim…" Conner's voice came through the side of the lab and Tim hummed at him as he tried to concentrate on finding the missing link between the movements of the weapons manufacturer. He needed to find some clue about how they were moving the massive amount of material needed to create fake kryptonite.

It couldn’t be simple. As far as he could tell, there were only four major players with the know-how to pull something like this off. He was the acting R&D Director of one and the other three were completely clean. He’d focused almost completely on LexCorp, because, well… _Luthor…_ But even his deep-deep super-secretly off-the-books documents didn’t seem to have anything related to the guns.

And that didn’t make sense, it-

“You’re doing the creepy thing again,” Conner said and Tim turned to look at him…

_Kon._

Maybe using Kon’s credentials to violate Lex’s administrative credentials would probably come back and bite him in the ass, he’s pretty sure he can sort that out, whenever Lex comes knocking on the front door. Kon’s going to be mad though, to be put on Lex’s bad side again. He’ll have to find a way to pay penance for violating his trust, probably…

But he needed to find the missing link, there had to be something.

Candidate number three was Star Labs and while there was some suspicious activity and he should probably tell Flash about the attempt at recreating the Speed Force with a particle accelerator that was currently underway in the Central City Lab, but he couldn't find anything connecting to Kryptonite. Nothing before Batman gave them the artificial K, anyway.

There's a troublesome memo detailing how they could use that Kryptonite to develop tech to restrain Superman _‘Just in Case’_ , but he could let that slide from now. They’ll have to keep an eye on those scientists, particularly the creepy ones.

_Creepy…_

_Right, he should reply to Kon…_

“No, I’m not,” Tim muttered as he mulled over into option number 4: Kryptonians. Now, while most of them were on their side, there was still quite a good amount of Kryptonians and Kryptonian-tech enabled people in the world that could have the technology to pull something like this off. He found an article in the Fortress’ archives detailing something about how Metallo had used something like this once, but all the information was heavily redacted.

Still, the fake kryptonite used that time wasn’t like this, the radiation it gave was off. It was different.

“Yeah, you totally are,” Bart said while he munched on some chips and Tim turned to look at him.

There was also the possibility of a future assailant. He hadn’t considered future assailants. They were troublesome most of the time. And normally, a future-menace was preceded by future-heroes trying to stop said future-menace…

Though, they had a very troublesome record of not believing people from the future when they said they came from the future… He could…

Tim moved to the computer and started typing an alert system, he should go… what, 12 months? That seemed reasonable… He entered all major psychiatric facilities in the US and created a request for all interns with delusions from the future in the last 12 months, preferably with any mentions of Kryptonians, weapons or… what else, what else should he focus on…

He looked back at Bart, what would a ‘future boy’ like him say about the future… but then again he hadn’t exactly… the question should go to future-Iris she was the one…

Bart was looking at him questioningly-

_What?_

_Oh, right. The creep thing…_

Tim blinked and then glared at Kon and Bart “No, I’m not doing the creepy thing,” he replied again, and then sighed when they both looked at each other and smiled.

‘The creepy thing’ was a _supposed_ state they _claimed_ he got when he focused too much on a particularly tough mental problem, where he fixated on a point and ‘glared’ at it. According to Bart it was ‘ _like super weird, you know, because it’s like that glare Batman gives to people when he stays really quiet and waits for them to confess and he looks he’s like reading into their minds, and they always end up talking; but you are doing it to a wall, which is like, creepy because it’s a wall and walls don’t talk, but then honestly, I’m kind of expecting the walls on your room to start talking one day, because you’re staring at them so much and I couldn’t honestly stand that staring…’_

Kon had laughed, agreed, and they’d baptized it _the creepy thing._ Which, honestly, Tim didn’t do…

He didn’t. Period.

He was about to say so, when Kon beat him to it, "Don't even try to argue it, dude, you've been staring at the _thingie_ like it’s personally killed your puppies or something,” Tim turned to look at his muffle furnace and sighed. He was right, the results from the furnace had been annoying and it had led to his divagation over where the kryptonite had come from.

Turns out, the kryptonite had a flash point of as little as 80 Celsius and an auto-ignition point of 220. That’s similar to fucking kerosene. And it was being handled in fucking trucks with weapons that heated up to 180 when used.

It was volatile and extremely combustible.

Thought about it like this, the weapon was more akin to a flamethrower than a handgun.

Which meant it had to be created, stored and shipped carefully.

So, it was odd that he’d found nothing.

He sighed and looked back at Kon and Bart. No use on arguing with them about the creepy thing. It would only make the teasing all the more unbearable. “Right, what are you doing here?” he asked trying to change the subject.

He was in the Kryptonite lab. Kon should definitively know better than to come here and yesterday had proved Bart should also avoid this place while the artificial K was anywhere in the vicinity.

“Tim, it’s been three hours,” Bart said, while also going back and forth between the equipment reading the stats. He liked to do that, and thanks to his eidetic memory he could recite previous data to Tim, so he encouraged Bart to take a look at everything. “You said not to let you stay in the lab too long, so we’re taking you out,” he finished stopping in front of him, resting a hand on his shoulder nudging him.

Tim shook him off as he waved his hand, “I said not to let me stay in the lab _all day_. Three hours are barely 1/8 of that," he could easily do a 12-hour marathon, but Bart was right, he had promised Kon he'd make this trip a relaxing one. Not to focus too much on the mission, "If I haven't left in another three hours, come back for me," he promised trying to compromise.

“You’re no fun,” Bart said frowning.

“Tim,” Kon said looking at them from the door frame with his arms crossed looking cocky, “you have to know that’s not how this is gonna go, right?”

Tim rose his eyebrow at that. Kon would probably try to strong arm him into leaving, probably even carrying him in some humiliating way and parade him through the Tower. But… "Before you threaten anything, I want you to remember where you are," Tim said facing him off. True, most of his tests right now were being conducted with the Artificial-K, there were still lots of stuff in here that could give him a definitive edge against Kon if only to teach him a lesson on dealing threats in while surrounded by kryptonite.

“Really? You’re threatening me with Kryptonite” Kon huffed in muck offense and Tim rolled his eyes.

“You’re threatening me not to let me finish my job,” he countered.

Kon walked in right to his face, “I can grab you, knock you out and tie you to your bed, before you reach one of the drawers,” he challenged him and Tim knew he was right but instead of backing off, he took his hands to the sides of his belt and rose an eyebrow.

“Who says I have to get the drawers?” He allowed himself a little smile as he saw Kon take half a step back and eye cautiously at his belts. Half of them were lead-lined so he had no way of knowing where the Kryptonite ring could be.

“I can rip off the belts,” Kon tried, puffing his chest a little and maybe unconsciously levitating a few inches, with that obvious need to overcompensate the fact that Tim was getting to him. Tim smirked.

“You’ll have to take off the whole suit first, are you sure you can reach the bolts on time?” he reminded him. The safety pins had an easy-removal system, but it only worked with his fingerprint; if someone else wanted to take them by force they had to rip off the entire suit before they could open the belt.

It probably wouldn’t be an issue with a super-

“Huh?! I guess Cassie’s right,” Tim and Kon turned around to Bart who was looking at them with a contemplative gaze from the other side of the lab, “I hadn’t noticed, but, you two _do_ have a _sexual tension thing_ going on…”

…

_Wh-_

“ _What!?_ ” Kon stole his line and bellowed at Bart before turning and looking at him… and then Tim realized he was standing _really close,_ like _really close_. Kon seemed to realize this too and he zipped half a foot to the side as Tim tried to reign the blush on his face.

_Nope, not happening… Not going there…_

“We don’t have a _sex_ -” Kon turned to look at him and cut himself getting redder by the second, before scoffing, “Just _no_ , dude!” he said crossing his arms and looking very interested in the contents of an empty Petri dish.

“Bart, I don’t know what you-”

Tim was starting when Bart cut him off “what I heard?” he finished for Tim before _flashing_ up to them and pointed at Kon, “I heard _you_ saying are gonna _tie him_ _up_ to his bed?” and then he turned to Tim, “And you, saying that he could but he better _undress you_ first?" He had both eyebrows raised and his face had a huge stupid grin that would have had Tim smiling if he wasn't so hard trying _not to blush_.

He hadn’t…

They hadn’t said that…

Right?

_Oh, God…_

“Dude!” Kon groaned pitifully, “We were _bantering_ …”

_Yes… Yeah, that’s right…_

Bart turned to him and scoffed with a ‘ _yeah, right!’_ written all over his face, “ _We_ banter," Bart said moving his finger at a super speed between them, "But you've never offered to tie me up and undress me while we're at it…"

Kon choked on his own saliva, but Tim saw an opening there, “Would you want him to?” he asked wiggling his eyebrows, causing both Bart and Kon to turn to him with matching shocked expressions.

Bart immediately took it in stride and threw himself on Kon's chest, "Yes, that's it… I'm jealous, Kon," he said in a mocking voice, "you need to tie me up and make me yours…"

Kon simply chuckled and moved him off, sending Tim a fake eye roll.

Tim felt himself heat up a little at it and he cleared his throat and decided to ignore that conversation and finish his alert system on the future assailant theory. Conner and Bart went about goofing around in the Lab. Just to be sure, he triple checked the locks on anything harmful.

It was fine. They were worried about him and keeping him company, he… This refreshed him. Their shenanigans were a welcome change to the stoic approach of the Batcave. It was _why_ he came to these two.

And, yesterday their presence in the lab had triggered the most important advance in the Artificial K case. Kon was trying to _‘see how much I can see in this lab’_ and ended up discovering the weapon’s casing wasn’t lead. It was a lead alloy, but it wasn’t pure lead; he could see through it. But, weird thing was, it wasn’t affecting him.

Tim tried to do a couple of tests and because of a machine malfunction, the kryptonite ended up being exposed, making him dizzy; but Kon had been able to grab it and close the lid. He'd grabbed it empty-handed and it hadn't done anything other than a _weird feeling_. But, then, Tim had turned to Bart and their speedster was kneeled on the floor, shaking his head.

It hadn’t taken too much for Tim to figure it out.

He called Clark, got him to perform a test in the Cave and now he had proof: the Artificial K was specifically built to affect metahumans and to be fired at humans.

Metahumans and Enhanced Individuals…

Tim looked over his notes. He should probably follow up on Damian. He hadn’t been able to get rid of the dark pit that ignited itself in his belly every time he remembered the image of Damian bend over the computer, with Bruce behind him trying to support him. He hadn’t expected it to affect Damian, he’d miscalculated, and he’d even asked Damian to come closer.

He’d almost poisoned Damian.

He should call the kid, probably-

"Hey, I didn't start it…" Bart complained loudly next to him, talking about whatever with Kon and bringing him out of his memory. He turned to see Bart pouting and Kon smirking. Tim knew he'll probably get a headache in less than a minute.

Kon didn’t disappoint, as he huffed and replied a petulant “You **_so_** did.”

Bart faced him off, “Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not,”

“Did-“

“ _Quit it_!” Tim hissed looking at both of them, Bart was now vibrating in place and Kon was hovering, and Tim knew if he let it go too much, he could say goodbye to his lab.

He liked his lab.

“Tell _him_ that!” Bart complained pointing at Kon, who spun him around with perhaps a little bit more force than necessary. Tim was about to call him out on that, but Kon spoke completely over him.

“Me! You’re the one who started the whole _sexual tension_ -” Tim sighed.

_They’re still on about that?_

“Na-uh,”

“Ya-huh,”

"Nah-uh"

“Guys!” Tim yelled standing between them trying to prevent them from wrestling around the lab, the _potentially dangerous_ lab. “ _Seriously_?”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Kon and Bart yelled at him while glaring each other and Tim had enough.

“Really? This is…” he muttered annoyed as he moved to the door of the lab before taking a deep breath. This needed some serious intervention. “CASSIE!” he howled, enjoying how the two of them froze on their spot. “Could you please tell these two to **_behave_**?!”

After a second of strained silence, another voice bellowed from above. “CONNER! BART!” Tim grinned as the both of them stood straighter at her voice, but then Cassie betrayed him, “LISTEN TO YOUR DAD!”

Kon and Bart started snickering and Tim knew he had half a second before this devolved into nonsense and his afternoon work would be over, “Out!” he ordered.

If Cassie hadn't stepped in and instead had flamed their bantering it meant he didn't have an ally… Maybe Rachel… But she and Gar were on a date, somewhere.

“Ooh, Is Dad mad at us?” Kon said with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk, but Tim rose his eyebrow at him and gave a slight side look at Bart, remembering his earlier words. Kon must have remembered them too because the center of his cheeks was starting to color again. Tim cleared his throat and ignored any inconvenient thoughts. “Yes, I’m trying to find potentially dangerous weapons and you’re interrupting,” he replied all business.

“ _Daddy’s_ getting angry,” Bart said, not letting him off the hook and definitively leaning on the sex-tension angle. Tim sighed touching his temples, he didn't have time for this, so he turned around and met Bart with a blank face.

“Go, play some games, don’t come back in less than three hours,” he said in his Red Robin voice. Bart and Kon both _finally_ realized that he wasn’t going to leave the lab as they wanted when they started to mess with him and grumbled defeated as they walked out.

Tim turned and stared back at the lab, trying to find another thread to start pulling.

Not half an hour later, Kon’s head appeared in his peripheral vision and Tim turned to look at him questioningly. “Yo,” he said as he handed him his phone “Jon’s asking for you,” he explained and Tim’s eyebrow rise at that. Jon was his best friend’s baby brother, so that made him like his honorary baby brother, but he rarely actually seek him out.

Kon shrugged and Tim grabbed the phone, noticing it was in a video call. Jon had the phone pointing upwards almost to the sky and Tim could only see the top half of his face, he was looking to the side, obviously talking to someone on the background while he picked, “Jon?” he called and Jon’s face was centered immediately.

“Hey, Tim!” he said looking straight at the camera and giving him a big smile, “How are you?” Tim could see behind the smile, behind the general goodness and cuteness that was all _Jon_ , and he could see there was something wrong.

All his senses went into alert.

“Fine…” he said remembering his manners and was about to return the question when Jon’s smile froze instead of growing at his reply, “Is everything all right?” he asked up front feeling dread filling him and going over possible scenarios that could need his attention.

"Yeah…" Jon answered and Tim didn't buy it. The real question was why Jon would insist on talking to Tim and not Kon about whatever was happening. It might have something to do with him… it- Then, Tim caught a glimpse of a tower in Jon's background.

“Are you at the Manor?” he asked confused. He thought Jon was barred from the Manor until the whole mess with the Kryptonite-

“Wha-? Oh, yeah. Came here yesterday,” Jon replied, this time with a more honest smile and a slight gaze to the right.

That explained it.

He was with Damian.

After learning that the Kryptonite was fake, Damian had probably had wanted to have Jon come over to the Manor. Over the three days he was there, he'd heard Damian complain about the injustice of not being able to be with his soulmate at least _a hundred times_.

It also explained the call and Jon's uneasiness. He didn't need Tim, Damian did. But the little asshole didn't want to call him himself, he'll probably see it as admitting some sort of weakness or some bullshit like that, so he'd had his soulmate call Tim, and then, by happenstance, he'll drop whatever information he needed Tim to check for him.

Well, tough luck.

Tim smiled at Jon, "Spending some quality time with your soulmate?" he said wiggling his eyebrows. He'd already talked to Jon and teased him about it a couple of days back when he was bored out of his mind in convalescence; before he talked with Jason. He shook _that_ thought aside. But, still, it gave him a great idea to force Damian to come out from the sides and actually talk, "Well, I'll say it again, you have my condolences for pairing with him," he said with fake pity.

Sure enough, an outraged _“What?!”_ sounded on the background and the image blurred as Damian probably ripped the phone out of Jon's hands, "How dare you, Drake!" Damian's angry red face was hovering over the phone, "Take it back, you-"

He didn't manage to finish, Jon was right next to him putting a hand on his shoulders and trying to wrestle control of the phone again.

"He was joking Dami," he heard and then Damian was cursing in Farsi and looking angrily at him and Tim felt the pit in his stomach again.

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he conceded at Damian lowering his head a little “I- I am just kidding, Demon Wonder, I shouldn’t have,” he apologized. “I’m happy you guys presented to each other,” he was honestly surprised how much he meant it as he said it and Damian must have noticed too because he looked as shocked as he’d ever seen him, which honestly, it was just a slightly ajar mouth for half a second, but still…

Tim chuckled, “You better take care of him, Damian,” he nodded at him and then looked to the side to see Jon, “and Jon, remember our talk…” he left it at that knowing Damian would go crazy for that statement, but wouldn’t risk asking anything out loud as it would _betray weakness_.

Especially after Tim just apologized to him.

It was funny watching Damian come to that realization and having to bite the questions that were popping on his mind. Tim just kept smiling, but turned the conversation around, “So, what is it, Damian?” he asked directly, “You’re the one who wants to talk,” he guessed and Damian reluctantly nodded.

“You need to get back to the Manor,” he deadpanned and Tim rose an eyebrow at that. He was about to ask what he meant, but Damian continued not bothering to wait a second. “Your soulmate fought with Father and Grayson.”

…

Tim stared at the phone looking at Damian looking back at him.

_What? My soul-_

“I’m so-” he tried to articulate his question, but nothing else came out.

Damian must have gotten the wrong impression on the part that was actually troubling about the piece of information he’d just given Tim, because he simply added, “They were behaving… poorly.”

They, being Bruce and Dick, who had gotten into a fight with Jason.

That wasn’t news.

Barely even worth mentioning except…

Except Damian had called Jason his soulmate. He shouldn’t have.

He shouldn’t know. “How did-? How do you know about _that_?” he asked.

Damian clicked his tongue before replying, “Todd told Father and Grayson you two presented and they are planning to keep the two of you away from each other.”

Tim sat on his chair and his eyesight was getting blurry.

Jason told Dick.

 _Fuck_.

Bruce wasn’t a problem, but Dick. He’d kept it quiet from him and Dick knew Jason had presented a long time ago, so he’ll know he’d been lying to him. Dick hated when he lied to him, especially about personal stuff. Mission stuff, he got why sometimes it needed to be handled discretely. Having presented to Jason?

No, Dick wouldn’t take that easily.

Then the second part of Damian’s sentence registered.

 _Keep the two of you away._ “Wait- keep us _apart_?” he parroted back to Damian confused.

That didn't sound like Dick. Bruce could be an asshole and he could see where he came from, but Dick?

Still, Damian looked off camera as he muttered “ _tt_. _Kind of amazing_ … that’s what you said…” That was obviously part of a previous conversation and Tim was caught off guard by it for a second before a smile grew on his face as he pieced the most likely scenario.

“Jon thinks I’m _amazing_?" he asked happily feeling the beginning of warmth in his chest.

“ _Kind of_ …” Damian contested immediately, “As in, ‘ _I cannot believe he’s **this** thick-headed, it's kind of amazing',_” he finished with a monotone tone of voice that actually told him he was lying his teeth off.

Jon thought Tim was awesome.

It was nice being appreciated like that.

Still. They were off topic. “Whatever, what did Bruce said to Jason?” he asked. It had to be Bruce, right? Bruce confronting Jason and then Dick getting dragged into it. Or Dick confronting Jason and then Bruce escalating the shitstorm.

"Not important," Damian said and Tim actually groaned. Of course, it was important. It was the key difference between Jason getting angry and storming off to Roy or Kory or a pub, and Jason storming off to put a bullet on half of Arkham. "Just get here, Drake. I will talk with Grayson, but I'll let Father to you."

Tim finally understood the reasoning behind Damian’s call. He wanted to build bridges. He’ll talk to Dick and Tim’ll talk to Bruce and…

_Wait-_

“Wait, Damian-” he tried to ask him but he’d hanged up before Tim could ask anything else.

_I swear to God, I’m going to kill that little bastard-_

Tim took a deep breath.

If what he was thinking was true, then Damian had called to help him talk Bruce and Dick out of separating him from his soulmate.

Which meant Damian was helping him be with his soulmate.

Which was not _normal_.

It-

Tim shook his head again and tried to organize his thoughts.

So, Jason told Bruce and Dick. He should have guessed it. He should have known it would come to that. Fuck, Jason had talked to _him_ less than a day after knowing about the mark, why on earth had he believed nothing would change and he could just stay in San Francisco having some downtime?

He’d been so busy trying to get his mind out of Jason, it hadn’t occurred to him Jason was actually dealing with the same bullshit, and unlike him, Jason was _in_ _Gotham_. Dealing with Bruce and Dick was hard enough for Jason on a regular basis, with this whole soulmate bullshit it would be even harder…

And then… Bruce was trying to separate them?

Well… keeping them separate-

“Did you really gave the shovel talk to my baby brother over _Damian_?”

Tim looked up to see Kon looking at him strangely, he hummed and nodded. He had. Not exactly shovel, more like, ‘ _I know I don’t have the best relationship with him, but he’s still my brother and he really likes you. Be good to him.’_

Still. Did it count right?

“You’re weird,” Kon said and Tim smiled at him, not really being able to form coherent words yet.

He nodded and walked past Kon heading to his room. He’ll need to pack and take one of the planes-

“So, need a flight to Gotham?” Kon asked from behind him and Tim spun around, the shock dislodging his throat.

“You’re offering?” he asked dumbstruck, Kon would be the last person he’d expect to offer help with anything regarding his soulmate. Well, second, after Damian, really…

_Today was just a day filled with wonders, apparently._

Kon still didn't look all that convinced. "Look, man, you are going to have to face Jason sooner or later, might as well be there for you," he said shrugging, before looking at him seriously again. "You remember what you promised, though, right?"

Tim smiled. “I have a home here.”

“Of course, you do!” Bart said from behind him making him turn around yet again. “What are we talking about?” Tim hummed as Kon shared the information with Bart. It didn’t take long for Bart to include himself in their little trip and twenty minutes later the three of them were heading towards Gotham, Tim feeling immensely less troubled about this just by knowing he’ll have his two best friends by his side.

Now all he needed to do, was to figure out what the hell had happened between Bruce and Jason.

_-_-_-_-_-_

Entering the floor of Bruce’s office in WE, the rational part of his brain conceded that this was probably a bad idea. But right now he didn’t care. He had the recording of that conversation on an insane loop in the back of his mind.

_'You and Tim shouldn't be together'_

_'You’re dangerous to him'_

_'I’m not some fucking lunatic going around wanting to hurt my soulmate'_

_'You can’t be his soulmate'_

What the fuck was wrong with Bruce and Dick? How the fuck could they be so fucking blind and attack Jason like that? How could- How could they not see what they were doing to him?

Tim had only needed to see the face of Jason after Dick’s stupid ‘ _can’t be- his your brother’_ moment to know his rejection had messed him up. And now, nearly two days later, Jason was off the grid, and apparently, neither Bruce nor Dick had taken a fucking second to look for him, each up in their high horses, indignant about whatever.

Fucking insanity.

Damian had been right to call him.

Honestly, to be forced to depend on _Damian_ to do the emotionally intelligent decision… This family is seriously screwed.

He walked past the desks and he was about to walk into Bruce's office when a voice made him stop, "Excuse me, how did you-" he turned around and looked at the woman who'd tried to stop him. He recognized her as Janet, Lucius' new secretary, "Oh, Mr. Drake," she said, obviously recognizing him as well, "Sorry, I didn't…" she tried to say but he shook his head with his work smile on.

“It’s ok,” he said. He was in a hoodie and jeans, no one in the office had probably seen him like this before. “Is Bruce with Mr. Fox, then?” That was about the only reason she’d be waiting outside Bruce’s office.

"Yes, they've been in meetings all morning," she said and Tim nodded and turned to enter the room, completely ignoring Janet's soft attempt at stopping him. He didn't mean to be rude, but he could just justify it on this being a pressing matter.

He entered the room and walked straight at Bruce, noticing there were two people opposite to Bruce. He recognized Lucius but the other man was only barely in his mind.

The three of them looked surprised by his interruption. Bruce recovered first. “Tim,” he said carefully and Tim recognized the tone. He was asking him if he was Tim or Red Robin. He nodded at the unasked question and then motioned to greet both Bruce and Lucius before turning to the third man.

He was an Asiatic male, late thirties, black hair, and eyes. Lucius was the first to introduce them, "Tim, this is Mr. Zhang, he's the head of Marketing at-"

“WE-Hong Kong,” Tim finished nodding at Lucius and then at Mr. Zhang, now he remembered him, “We met during out misguided attempt at marketing Batman’s image,” he remembered. He’d been the liaison he’d used every time he needed an excuse to meet with Cass in Hong Kong.

“I wouldn’t call it misguided, merely unappreciated.” Mr. Zheng spoke diplomatically with a marked accent as he stood up and shook Tim’s hand. He tried a smile but decided to cut the pleasantries. He wasn’t in a mood to play WE diplomacy right now. “Mr. Zhang, I know it must appear terribly rude of me, but could you give me a second with Bruce,” he asked causing Bruce’s left eye to twitch, but all in all not giving too much.

Mr. Zheng looked a little uncomfortable before nodding and muttering a soft “Not a problem,” before exiting. Tim turned to Lucius and asked him softly to give him ten minutes with Bruce. He nodded and left after them.

Tim took Lucius' seat and looked at Bruce, who'd dropped Brucie's mask and was staring at him, an odd mixture of Bruce and Batman. "You just interrupted Mr. Zhang's promotion," he said seeing the door and Tim felt slightly guilty until Jason's heartbroken face came back full force into his mind. He didn't have time to dwell on that, because Bruce continued, "Last time we saw each other you stole a gun from me," he said.

Tim actually groaned.

He’d almost forgotten about that.

Still. He smiled at Bruce's slip. "Actually, that was the last time we were in the same room. Last time we _saw each other_ I conducted an experiment with you and Clark,” he corrected, but Bruce simply held his stare at him before adding softly,

“And Damian.”

Right.

Tim closed his eyes hard, being reminded of Damian, "I didn't know he would react that bad to it," he apologized again. Bruce simply looked at him not changing his expression and Tim made another mental note to talk to Damian about the experiment. He hadn't had time to do so earlier.

Bruce sighed and relaxed on his chair, “What happened, Tim?”

Tim looked at him and took a deep breath before replying. “That’s what I want to know, what happened with Jason, Bruce?” he asked and was surprised when Bruce’s eyebrow rose and he sat a little straighter on his chair.

_He hadn’t expected this topic._

Maybe he expected Tim to come with answers about the weapons or with a case or a project.

After a full second in which Bruce scanned all of Tim’s face and body with his gaze, he simply asked “Dick?”

Tim smiled at that, “Damian, if you can believe it.”

Bruce couldn’t, apparently, because his eyebrows rose again and he turned to look out the window, in the direction of the Manor. “He hadn’t said anything,” Bruce muttered, “I was starting to think he was uninterested.”

“Apparently he wasn’t,” Tim replied, not willing to go down that road, Bruce was apparently not interested in discussing what had transpired on that room, so… “Bruce, I saw the recording of your office, what-” _What the hell!_ He didn't actually finish the sentence, but he noticed Bruce actually got his meaning.

He looked at him and Tim saw the telltale signs of Bruce realizing he’d overlooked something. It wasn’t obvious, and most leaguers and even some in his family (Duke!) still weren’t able to see it, but it was there. It was his _I fucked up_ face, which, to be honest, could be easily confused with a glare.

_He’d meant to erase the videos._

Well, he hadn’t.

Tim held the glare and Bruce reclined in the chair looking at him tiredly, “He didn’t know you two were soulmates.” Tim was a little thrown off by the seeming non-sequitur until he realized Bruce still wasn’t going to address or justify what he and Dick had said, he simply was going to move forward.

He thought he was on the right about how he’d handled Jason so, the only thing that was bothering him was why Jason was kept in the dark.

Why Tim hadn’t told him...

“No, he somehow missed it,” Tim said, not bringing up anything else about his interaction with Jason almost a week ago. It wasn’t what he cared right now. What he cared about now was what Bruce planned to do. Tim’s first instinct after seeing that video was to try to find Jason. He knew Bruce and Dick’s comments must have hurt him.

He remembered the face Jason made when he’d threw the whole ‘ _you tried to kill me’_ at his face, in his bedroom. Jason had recoiled away from him looking wounded.

He’d seen the same face today, as soon as Dick and Bruce both hammered on him that he shouldn’t be with his soulmate. And Tim hadn’t known about it as it happened, because he’d been hiding out in the Tower. If he’d actually tried to talk to them, if he’d stayed one more night, Tim would have been able to react to it.

Instead, three days had gone by.

And Bruce and Dick hadn't done anything to get closer to Jason again. So he probably was right now internalizing the fact that his soulmate didn't want him.

Tim knew how that felt.

Fuck, he’d had years of experience dealing with it.

It wasn’t pretty.

Tim knew Jason had been breaking too many arms and legs after their little talk… he… he didn't actually want to think what Jason could be up to after _this_. His best hope right now was that he'd called Roy or Kori and they were helping him deal with the bullshit.

He hoped Jason hadn’t forced himself to try and deal with it alone.

 "I thought you had decided to be apart, I think it's for the best," Bruce said, summarizing his argument as badly as he'd done it to Jason a couple of days back. "He disagreed," he finished and Tim actually wanted to laugh at that but then Bruce's voice rang on his head for a second. 

_Disagreed._

_Jason disagreed._

_About us being apart…_

He mentally went back to the conversation and tried to pick apart every word Jason said that night…

> _You have no fucking say in this… I’ve never been insane!… I’m not some fucking lunatic going around wanting to hurt my soulmate!… I get to decide what to do with this… Bruce is informing me I cannot have a relationship with Tim, I take it you agree?… Everyone should get a soulmate. But, not Jason, right?… That’s great, just fucking awesome… Go to hell, Bruce,_

Tim’d been so focused on what Bruce and Dick had told Jason, he hadn’t heard what Jason had said…

He hadn’t focused on what Jason _hadn’t_ said.

Jason, who every time someone mentions soulmates finishes the conversation dissing about soulmates, got defensive, he got _offended_ at the idea of being kept apart.

He’d…

_‘Everyone should get a soulmate. But, not Jason, right?…’_

Jason shouldn’t be complaining about it.

He really shouldn’t.

He should be telling Bruce to fuck off and restating that he has zero interest in soulmates. He really shouldn’t be getting angry at the prospect of being kept away from Tim. That would only make sense… It really should only make sense if…

"Tim, I don't think this is a good idea," Bruce said looking intently at him as if trying to read his mind. Not that he would need to. Tim was probably broadcasting his thoughts right now. It was getting hard to reason with the idea…

_Jason wants me…_

“What is?” he asked even though his mouth felt suddenly really dry, “Me, being with my soulmate? Or Jason being with his?” he asked Bruce, who simply growled lowly at that, unable to really answer.

Of course, Tim got a really clear idea of what Bruce truly means about that.

In his own way, Bruce is actually trying to look after both of them. Tim, from having a relationship with an ‘unstable individual’ like Jason; and Jason, from having a relationship that might actually make it harder for him to control himself. 

Tim had read the reports on the effects of the Pit on Ra’s skewed views on human relationships. If Jason’s not completely detoxed, Tim could end up either as a trigger for his rage; or Jason could develop an emotional dependency to Tim, to their relationship. A dangerous really unhealthy dependency. Ra’s tests on the subject hadn’t been pretty.

“I know what you think about it Bruce, I’ve known ever since you decided to throw him into Arkham for what he did,” Tim reminded him trying to ignore that for the moment, and instead appeal to Jason’s development. Jason had ultimately proved he could actually function within their group.

Bruce should be able to see that Jason was far more now than what he'd been a couple of years back.

"I recognize he's better than he's ever been" Bruce conceded and Tim actually smiled at him before Bruce continued, "and I'm glad- I'm thrilled to have my son back, Tim. You don't know how that feels, having him back. You can't know… Losing a son," Tim fidgeted a little on the chair listening to Bruce open up to him. It still made him uneasy, being treated as an adult by Bruce, being confided in, treated as more than just a partner in vigilantism.

Still, Bruce retreated back into his usual self before continuing, “But, regardless of what he might be to _me_ , he’s dangerous to _you_. And you’ve let your bond with him blind you to how dangerous Jason really is-”

Tim actually scoffed at that, “My bond _blinded_ _me_? _Me_?” he looked incredulous at Bruce. It was pretty rich of Bruce to bring that up, “Yeah, no, you’re right. He should be in a cell. Why don’t we arrange it? Maybe he and _Selina_ can share one,” he said with sarcasm dripping every syllable.

_Talk about hypocrisy._

Bruce glared at him and said a very curt, “Don’t spin this-”

“I’m _not_.” Tim cut him, “You just don’t get to call me out on having a soft spot for a dangerous soulmate, Bruce. Not you. Literally everyone _but_ you.” Bruce was the king of toxic-soulmate-relationship with his mix of _will-they won’t-they_ / _cat-and-mouse_ / _fated lovers_ he and Selina had going on. He cannot just try and suggest Tim’s actually not being objective ( _which, of course, he wasn't_ ).

Bruce sighed and waved his hand at Tim, “So you agree he’s dangerous,” he said and Tim actually chuckled at that.

“He chopped off the heads of half the lieutenants in Gotham in a day, Bruce. _Of course_ , he's dangerous," he said looking out the window. There was no denying who Jason was… _But…_ “But… He’s been better and he’s been _close_ to me, even without knowing we were soulmates,” he finished.

He had been.

And now… Now not only did he acted like a soulmate half of the time, he actually _wanted him_.

_Presumably._

For a long time, Tim had been having to twist his own logic, to try and see two Jasons. His crush, the reformed Bat who Tim wanted to be close to; and his soulmate who Tim had to avoid in order not to have his heart crush into little pieces.

"You want him," Bruce said and Tim schooled his face before looking up to Bruce, trying to give him nothing, but he simply continued on "If you wanted him, why didn't you talk to him? Why did you act like you didn't want him? It was part of what convinced me you two knew; that and his remarks and jabs at soulmates, I thought he directed them to you; I thought it was a way you two had decided to deal-"

Bruce stopped himself and looked at Tim his eyes narrowing, “He’s been saying all those things to you and you’ve…” _been taking it._ Tim finished for him and was about to reply when a dark shadow passed over Bruce’s face.

He recognized it.

It was the same one Kon normally got whenever he talked about Jason.

It was the one that said ‘ _he hurt you, didn’t he?’_

Bruce confirmed it in his next sentence, "Are you sure he didn't know?"

 “ _No, he didn’t,_ ” Tim groaned as he stood up looking at Bruce, “Jesus, Bruce, why are you so set on pinning this on Jason? If anything I’ve been hurting myself,” he defended Jason.

“You know how that sounds, Tim?” Bruce said standing up as well and moving to the window, “It sounds like you’re saying it’s your fault he’s been hurting you. It sounds like rationalized abuse,” Bruce finished and Tim scoffed at him. “I’m sorry Tim, but I can’t allow it,” he finished.

“Allow it?” he repeated sounding dumbfounded.

“Yes, I know you think you know best and normally, I would agree and defer to your judgment; but you’re compromised, I won’t let you-”

“ _Let me_ , what? Decide over my love life?” Tim practically screamed at him effectively cutting Bruce as he moved towards him, “What? Do you have a _nice girl from a good family, so I can settle with_? Arranged marriages got out of fashion last century, Bruce,” Tim said with venom spewing in every word, not even worrying about sounding petulant.

“You know that’s not what I’m suggesting, _Timothy_. Do not twist my words," Bruce chastised him, actually managing to stop Tim from going on a tirade and waiting for him to finish his idea, "Don't pursue a relationship with Jason. There are many people you can- He's…"

“He’s my soulmate,” Tim said looking straight at Bruce’s blue eyes.

“Tim-”

“You asked me if I wanted him. Well, yes, yes I do,” Tim said to Bruce, staring right to him. It was the first time he said so out loud and it suddenly felt as if he couldn’t stop the words from forming in his throat, “Why _shouldn’t I?_ Isn’t he supposed to be the one? All this time, I’ve been bending over backward trying to rationalize, why the fuck would I be paired with _him_ , if he thinks I’m such a disappointment. So unworthy. So… I don’t know… If he doesn’t want a soulmate, shouldn’t he be paired with someone of a similar mindset?”

“But now, Jason, _my soulmate_ , the one that I’ve been trying and fucking failing to fall out of love with… _he_ got mad at you for being _kept apart from me._ He fought you only days after he found out about us,” He choked up in that last part and looked back over to the city, extending from the top of WE all the way to the piers, where Jason was right now, hurting. Where he was probably thinking Tim didn't want anything to do with him. Where he was thinking Bruce and Dick had spoken for Tim as well and he suddenly felt the need to go out there and search for him.

“Tim, this will end badly,” Bruce warned him, feeling, as Tim had, that their conversation had run its course.

“Yeah, well… We’ll have to see, won’t we?” Tim said turning around and setting his sight on finding Jason.

It was way past time they had a real conversation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter... 
> 
> To be 100% honest, I'm not completely comfortable with it. I don't know why, but, I had too much trouble channeling Tim... I couldn't get Tim and Bruce to actually talk, and it just felt empty. 
> 
> I know I shouldn't post a chapter I'm not entirely happy with, but the problem is, I don't know what is it that I dislike. 
> 
> I don't know... what do you think? Was it good? Some ideas what to do to improve?
> 
> Anyway, I'm having a lot more fun with the next chapter: We'll get to catch up with Jason via Roy's POV.


	9. Chapter 9

Roy somehow managed to set Lian on the couch with the pieces of fruit that she’d asked for, while also managing to secure her five toys and the TV remote from falling to the floor. She was watching… _something_. Roy had given up long ago on trying to understand nowadays cartoons. She liked it, it didn’t seem to be anything _too_ inappropriate and he could get probably a good half an hour to check on the kidnappings, so, yeah…

He was a former drug addict/vigilante and her mother was an international assassin. Leaving his kid under the watchful care of the TV-nanny wouldn’t be the thing that would take away the _father-of-the-year_ award.

_If anything, it was one of the things that would make him a normal father…._

He moved around and sighed heavily.

This was too much.

He was screwing up his kid… _what the fuck was he thinking-_

Before he finished that thought, Liam laughed and turned to him pointing at the TV “ _Daddy,_ look, that’s Jay-jay…” Roy looked at the TV with a smile, looking at the cartoon of something that you _could say_ was a _supposed to be_ a blue jay. He felt a warm feeling seeing his kid humming a song about _birds_ of all things.

One of the reasons she liked that show was that character. After she learned it was a blue jay, she said it reminded her of Jason. He came closer and patted her hair "Yeah, princess; that's a Jay-jay," he whispered to her, squashing his previous thought while trying to prevent her from jumping on the sofa and toppling the barely balanced toys all over the floor.

“When’s Jay-jay coming again, daddy?” she asked turning and looking at him with those big brown eyes.

"Dunno. Want me to call Uncle Jay-Jay and ask him to come to visit?" Lian's eyes grew bright as she nodded exaggeratedly, before turning back to the TV.

Well, he might as well try.

Jason hadn't come in over three months. Maybe he'll want an excuse to ditch Gotham for a couple of days. God knows the _bad-Robin_ usually got strung up way too tight after a couple of weeks in Gotham.

Deciding it was worth a shot, he fished his phone from his jacket and called Jason to the direct line that would ping on all active phone numbers his best friend might have on him. At the third ring of the phone, Roy started worrying that he might be calling on a bad time; Jason usually answered by the second one, usually an automatic connection to his helmet line. By the sixth, a sense of annoyance started to set on him.

However, when he had to hang up and call again, his annoyance gave way to a sense of dread.

Then, the call connected to a silent line. An almost silent line. “Jason,” he tried softly, not knowing if he’d interrupted some sort of Bat-recon mission and that’s why he was being silent, but a nagging voice in his head kept telling him it wasn't. That this was a different kind of silence. A more oppressing kind of silence. The kind of silence that came rarely out of Jason only happens when the heat of rage had subsided and he was left behind with whatever little crevices of himself had survived the fire.

“So, you’re due for a trip up west,” he said after a whole minute of silence, trying not to let the screaming in his head to ‘ _just_ _do something’_ get too patent in his voice, “It’s starting to get frigging cold, you’ll totally hate it,” he tried a little joke.

Silence.

Roy left Lian on the living room and went to his room, sitting on his bed trying to rake his brain for some sort of an answer that would let him try and shake something out of Jason.

Something had happened.

That much was obvious.

The questions right now were _what_ and _how bad_. He honestly didn’t care about the rest. Every time one of his engines, arrows or weird inventions started to act up, his two questions were what and how bad. He can do something if he knows those two answers. He can worry about the _whys_ and _how comes_ much later.

Those are not important now. What’s important is what is happening and how bad is it, so he can act. So he can _fix it._

The sound of the TV distracted him for a moment and he got a simple idea.

“Lian wants to see you,” he tried, still in the same conversational voice, like there’s nothing wrong and he’s just calling a good friend to invite him home; which honestly, that’s exactly what he should be doing, “she’s missing her Jay-Jay” he added, knowing perfectly well Uncle Jay-Jay loves Lian just as much as she loves him.

Roy has the image of their first meeting seared on his brain. Jason had looked at her as if she was an alien, the most dangerous foe he might have met. And when Roy had asked him if he wanted to hold her, he’d looked panicked at him, refusing. Roy had had none of that and shoved her in his arms and he’d taken her with rigid arms and a frozen spine, but then Liam had gurgled happily at him raising her chubby little hand to grab Jason’s lock of hair and he’d just melted.

Not even metaphorically, Jason's arms just relaxed and he had one of the most beautiful soft smiles Roy had seen in his face, ever.

So it was no surprise that mentioning her caused Jason's breath to hitch and he replied Roy with a gruff, "No." His voice sounded rough like he'd had been chain-smoking and exerting himself.

Roy managed to catch the string of curses that came to mind in an instant, before he composed himself and added, “Yeah, she is. Quite loudly about it too,” he said with his annoyingly proud parent voice. He’d perfected that, and he had reason to. His kid was fucking perfect, thank you very much.

Jason didn't scuffed, corrected or dismissed him, as Roy had expected, instead he sighed long… or maybe he puffed particularly long drag of smoke before he said softly "I'm not good, Roy…"

He hadn’t expected an admission so early. Which was _good_ and _very, very bad_.

“Ok…” he hummed thinking on how to have his friend talking while he stills tries to figure out the _what_ “So, coming here, wouldn’t it-” _help._ It almost always does. But Jason cut him off with a laugh.

A fucking laugh.

Not a happy one or a playfully annoying ‘ _gotcha_ ’ laugh. Not even a sad one, a defeated sound of despair.

No, this was a manic laugh. A ‘ _this universe is so fucked up its funny_ ' laugh. Roy had only heard that laugh twice, and one of those times ended up with Jason dressing up as a Bat and trying to kill his brothers because Bruce-‘ _I’m a detective in every possible way except when I’m with my children_ ’-Wayne had decided to ask Jason to intern himself as his last wish.

Who the fuck asks one of his own children, on a fucking Will, to commit to the madhouse?

‘ _I’m dead, but you’re a crazy motherfucker, so there, we’re even._ ’

Bull. Shit.

Not even Oliver’s that much of an asshole.

So no, Roy knows that laugh doesn’t bode well. Nor do Jason’s next words, “You have the worst fucking timing…”

So he’s calling, either too late or too early. He can work with both of them. “Right,” he muttered trying to get the laugh shaken out of his bones, “Walk me through it big guy… Where are you?” he tried to make a conversation, trying to fish something, anything out of Jason.

"A warehouse…" he said and the quality of his voice changed, suddenly Roy could hear the wind and something on the background that sounded suspiciously like water. He didn't have to be a Bat to figure out Jason had taken his helmet off and that the warehouse was probably the docks. Still, he remained quiet, knowing the best way to fish Jason to speak was to let him get it out of his system at his own rhythm, his patience was soon rewarded with more information "the roof, actually, having a smoke, right now," Roy hummed and was about to comment on it, when Jason offered more information than he'd expected, "Covered in blood."

Roy had to bit his tongue to prevent the cruse from leaving his lips. It would do no good to curse, and Jason might not respond well to it. He knows _he_ fucking doesn’t.

He remembers the first time he had a relapse and he called Wally.

‘ _Fuck, Roy… you were doing so well…’_

Those words had annoyed him far more than they should have. That’s all it was to Wally, a _fuck up_. But it was far more than that for him. It was his fucking life spiraling out of control and he’d made the phone call to try to steer himself in the right direction… And was regarded with a _fuck, Roy._

He didn’t hold it against Wally, though. He had no way of knowing what was going on Roy’s head. And right now, Jason was probably feeling the same.

"How bad?" he asked one of the two questions burning in his mind, but the only one that Jason would probably be willing to answer right now.

He heard Jason exhaling, "Oh, I don't know, ten guys, twelve probably…" Roy tried not to click his tongue. Batman's not letting that one go… "They're…" Jason continued without needing prompting, and then he made a choking noise, before coughing a couple of times. "It's not good, Roy…" Roy felt a curse escape his lips before he could prevent it. He was about to repeat his question, but Jason didn't let him, "I didn't use my guns…"

_Shit._

When Jason was still riding on the last embers of Pit Rage, he'd told Roy that using the guns had actually been an exercise on restraint from him. The anger within him was tied to his body, it was coursing through his veins and it made him crazy for physical contact. The Pit wanted him to punch, and kick, bite and scratch, it made him want to physically connect with something. It wanted the _feeling_ of a fight. Shooting a gun was a moderate release.

That’s why, when he _really_ went into a blind rage, he didn’t just shot people; he beat them to a pulp and then he ended their misery with a gunshot or a knife to the throat.

If he didn't use a gun…

If he actually beat 12 people to death…

“Well,” he said, after noticing he’d gone too long without talking. “Nothing you can really do about it…” he said, his practical brain taking over, “Are you with them, now?” It would be bad if he was, seeing the results after the fact, if he lingered on it he would just drown himself in _emotions_ and that would definitively be the worst.

“Rooftop, the guys are inside,” Jason said and Roy hummed.

“Does the Bat-” he tried to ask, but Jason growled, actually growled like a dog, at him as he said ‘ _Fuck the Bat_.’

So… No need to ask who had caused this.

_Like I fucking needed to…_

"Want an extraction?" It would be a sensible plan, take off before the dear daddy Bats comes through the window and throws him headfirst into Arkham. He's tried that before…

“Nah,” Jason said and Roy felt his eyebrow rise at that, “why should I leave? _Fuck him_.”

_Ok, that’s… new…_

Still, he tried plan B, “Want a rendezvous?” _Don’t be alone after a relapse_. It was quite the obvious advice, but it had helped him. Jason, Dick, Wally, Star, fuck even Oliver and Dinah. Their presence had helped more than he’d be willing to admit during those first years after he quit. But Jason hadn’t replied, he’d just stayed silently on the other side of the call.

They'd never had had compunctions about asking each other for help, they knew they were fucked up, so whenever they offered help to each other, they didn't reject it. And yet, Jason was quiet.

It worried Roy far more than it should, “Jaybird?”

Two seconds of silence later, he heard another long exhale, “I could use the company, yes…” Jason said softly.

Roy nodded. He made a mental list of what he would need to take while he walked back to the living room to check on Lian again. He’ll need to leave Lian. She was not going to like that.

Correction: She was going to _hate_ that.

This weekend was supposed to be off for him and he’d promised to take her camping and sleeping under the stars; she loved it and with winter just around the corner, it would be a while before they could do that again.

He’ll have to make it up to her.

And he’ll need to make this trip short… Which unfortunately meant, “You need to tell them, Jay…” confronting the Bats as soon as possible.

“ ** _Fuck them_** , Roy," Jason said with a lot of venom "Every single one of them, they can all go rot in-"

“Nope… I’m gonna stop you there…” he cut him before Jason get another word, “You don’t mean that next word,” he said trying to remind him to reign in his emotions.

“The fuck I don’t.”

Roy sighed at Jason’s tone. _Ok, be like that…_ A whole two seconds of silence was probably enough for Jason to realize he wasn’t playing the _let’s piss on them_ game he wanted, so Jason just sighed and probably kept smoking. Roy grumbled as he connected the Bluetooth receiver and minimized the call so he could open the messaging app.

“Look,” he said with a conciliatory tone “Lucky for you, I can use a trip, so I’ll steal Oliver’s Javelin and I’ll be there in two hours,” he noticed Jason’s hitched breath and he realized Jason was probably expecting him to make some bullshit excuse to get out of dealing with him. He felt a little hurt by that, but decided to ignore it and focus on getting Jason on a more controllable environment, “So, get home, change, shower, I’ll be there for dinner.”

Jason obviously didn't take the orders kindly and started complaining about it, but the changes in the background noises told Roy he was actually moving from the warehouse, so he decided to play along and let Jason believe he was buying the whole _indignantly accepting help_ act he was trying to sell.

While he kept humming and sighing appropriately to Jason, he wrote Dinah a message, hoping she could help him out.

**_Me_ **

_Dinah, need a favor… - 8:44 p.m._

_Could you watch Lian for a couple days? - 8:44 p.m._

He made sure the message was sent and moved to Lian's room to pack a couple of bags and her school backpack, making sure to get the books she'll need for the next three days of classes. He probably wouldn't be in the city more than a day or two, before things with Jason are stable enough or they decided to take off… or they're forced to by a horde of angry bats…

He was fishing one of Lian's notebooks from behind her desk while listening to Jason rant about whatever food-related problem he was currently telling him ( _something about not making dinner, which was a shame, cause the man had the best culinary hand out of all the masks he knew of_ ), when his phone beeped.

**_Dinah_ **

_My boy, do you even need to ask? - 8:46 p.m._

_Everything ok? – 8:46 p.m._

**_Me_ **

_Not sure yet. - 8:46 p.m._

_I might need to borrow O’s Javelin. – 8:47 p.m._

**_Dinah_ **

_That bad? - 8:47 p.m._

_He’s at City Hall, I’ll make sure he’s busy while you “borrow” the plane - 8:47 p.m._

_Can you drop Lian off at my apartment, or do you need me to pick her up- 8:47 p.m._

Roy bit his lip hard looking at the phone. On one hand, he was already asking too much of Dinah. On the other, he needed to find a way to steal Oliver’s Javelin and making it to Gotham in under two hours…

**_Me_ **

_I hate to ask, but… Could we meet at the hangar- 8:47 p.m._

Luckily, Dinah agreed, so Roy breathed out again as he picked the last of her notebooks and settled her school backpack on top her suitcase. Three mental checks later, he was convinced he had packed everything Lian would need.

He turned to his room, grabbed his wallet, his keys and his cellphone. He had clothes and toiletries at, at least, three of Jason’s hideouts. And worst case scenario, he can wear Jason’s clothes.

So, he was all set. He opened his messaging app again and texted Dinah to meet him in half an hour. After getting her agreement, he went back to the living room. “Princess?” he called her and he saw the second she noticed the bags.

“You’re going?” The pout was killing him, but he kneeled in front of her to look at her directly to the eye.

“I need to go, princess” he told her, and the way she refused to meet his eyes as she bit the corner of her lip made him want to cancel the trip right there, he ignored the feeling, “But, you’re staying with Dinah for a while,” he tried to convince her, but she refused to meet his eyes, and he saw how her arms were shaking. _Oh crap, kid. Don’t do this to me, please…_ "And I'll be back in a couple of days," he tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she moved a step back and gave him a dirty look that was so _Cheshire_ he felt his heart compress on his chest painfully, so Roy decided to go full bribing mode, “I’ll come with Uncle Jay-Jay.”

She immediately brightened up but still looked at him with an unsure gaze, “You’re going to bring Uncle Jay-Jay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he lied. Or well, not exactly lied. It was more of a promise of something he wasn’t sure he was going to keep. Jason had gone silent on the line and Roy couldn’t help but noticed he hadn’t complained about him making promises and decisions for him, which, quite frankly, was also troublesome.

Lian moved and started making weird faces before she looked back at him and nodded. “Ok, but he has to bring me a present,” she demanded before walking to him grabbing the school backpack without him having to say anything and getting ready for the car.

He smiled at her and then looked around trying to make another checklist of things he would need. He grabbed the car keys and meet with Lian in the garage with a new sense of urgency.

“You shouldn’t have to come,” Jason said making Roy jump as he’d forgotten for a second the man was still on the line. “I shouldn’t take you away from her.” Roy could recognize from miles the guilt trip in Jason’s voice.

“You aren’t. You heard, I’m just bringing you to her,” he continued the lie and Jason just hummed. Lian sat on the back, put on the belt and asked him to put on some music. Jason informed him he was in his Chinatown hideout and hung up and Roy cursed as he took the Interstate towards the hangars on the outside of Star.

The trip to the hangar was completely uneventful and over in less than twenty minutes. Fortunately, Dinah was already there by the time he arrived and he was saved from the wait. He parked and walked downstairs to the base of the hangar, while Lian ran up to Dinah and instead of walking downstairs she jumped, throwing herself at the martial artist, giving Roy a heart attack that ended in a yell from him, and a laugh from the two crazy women.

Dinah simply rolled her eyes as she settled Lian on her arms, "Everything ok?" she asked seriously for a second while she received Lian's backpack and suitcase.

“Not sure,” he replied honestly looking at her, Dinah nodded, probably knowing firsthand how hard it was sometimes dealing with the craziness around the whole masks and capes business.

They walked towards the door of the hangar to the place Dinah had parked her silver SUV, and after settling in Lian on the car, she and Roy went back to the main doors. Roy looked up the window, to an old security loophole he had on this place, for moments like this. But, before he could do anything, Dinah talked to him and pointed to her right.

“Javelin’s ready for you.” Roy turned around and looked at her confused as she pointed to the building to their right, one of the hangars was open. Dinah simply shrugged as she read the question on his face “Cashed in a favor,” she said.

Roy grumbled, “ _Oliver?_ ” he asked not feeling entirely betrayed, but still, annoyed at having to owe a favor to his former mentor.

Dinah simply laughed and shook her head, "Oracle." That surprised Roy. Of course, the Birds probably owed each other a lot of favors, but to steal- _borrow_ a Javelin from a Justice Leaguer was kind of a high-risk favor. She smiled at him, “I guessed a rushed call for help could only have come from one of, maybe, three people and I took my best shot.”

Roy grinned at her and took a step forward to hug her in thanks and also as a goodbye, "I've said it too many times, Oliver does not deserve you," he didn't. Dinah Lance was too fucking good for that asshole. She just laughed and hit him on the arm before nodding,

“Damn right,” she said with a smile and a wink.

Roy turned, caught Lian's eye and waved exaggeratedly, a gesture that her little princess returned with both hands before blowing him a couple of kisses, he replied the same, before moving to the hangar and looking at the jet.

_Well, here I go Jay-Jay._

-_-_-_-_-

Roy scanned through the ads in the take-out app. He couldn't find anything really appetizing and he wasn't sure what Jason could be in the mood for since he didn't seem to be in the general mood of even talking.

He’d arrived three hours ago, gone straight to Jason’s hideout and had expected to find a complete mess, but instead, he found a pretty mixed picture he still couldn’t exactly piece together.

The Pit Rage had been quite easy to deal with, quite frankly. Mainly, because things hadn’t been as bad as he’d been led to believe initially. Yes, Jason had messed up a bunch of guys, and yes, he’d let go with his bare fists; but, the hacked policed scanners showed so far only one guy was actually dead. The rest were in critical conditions and two were pretty likely to kick the bucket, but even three deaths were still quite a more easily digested scenario than twelve.

And if he added to that, that the one death had actually been caused by a heart failure…

Well…

Yeah, it was on Jason but it hadn’t been a _clobbered to death with my bare fists_ kind of death... technically.

And yes, Roy was perfectly aware he was trying to look for those silver-linings _too hard_ , but, fuck, he needed to.

Jason needed him to.

So, yeah, if they were in a court of law, Jason wouldn’t walk away; but he was certainly not judging his best friend for _restraining himself_ after a Pit Rage. One accidental death hadn’t been the worst case scenario. Fuck, it was actually quite better than the _best-case scenario_ he’d come up with during his flight here.

But, what Roy hadn’t figured out yet, three hours in, was why Jason hadn’t taken the win.

Why he'd let the anger go and then go into this _quiet_ , _defeated_ state he was in.

Shit, if it were him, they should be going out to celebrate. A Pit Rage that ended with just one (hopefully just one, maybe three) accidental death. It was a fucking miracle.

But instead, Jason had deflated.

He’d closed off and no matter what Roy tried, he just stayed in the fucking couch, barely mustering a monosyllable. So, he’d decided to let him stew in it before he beat it out of him.

A physical fight was always the best way to have a conversation with Jason. Normally, he would prefer the one getting a beating would be some faceless goon, but, he supposed he’ll have to take one for the team and actually be Jason’s cathartic punching bag…

…

Well…

He’ll do that after dinner.

Since Jason’s not cooking and he was a fire hazard in the kitchen (even Lian was better than him, and wasn’t _that_ just a kick in the balls?), he’d decided that take-out was the best choice.

Problem was he’d found nothing.

Ok, he’d found a lot of Chinese food but he was not really up for that…

A picture of an Arabic sounding restaurant caught his eyes and he skimmed through the menu. "I think I'm going for Turkish," he said after checking prices and a couple of reviews. It sounded interesting. He walked around the table, with his phone on his hand not bothering to look up as he scanned the options, "Falafel wraps sound good, right? What do you say, Jay? You up for-"

“Tim’s my soulmate.”

_._

_.._

_…_

_Wh-_ “ _The fuck?_ " he screeched after three whole seconds passed and Jason didn't make any attempt at correcting, adding or even cracking a smile at the comment… Jason was looking at him, gaze laser-focused on Roy's eyes and Roy should probably pick up his cellphone (and his jaw), because… _Tim’s… What?_

 _Jason wasn’t…_ “You… You’re not joking,” Roy added, just to be sure. Jason just looked at him curiously as he rose an eyebrow.

He wasn’t.

He was pretty serious.

_Ok…_

_That… Tim?_

_Not how I expected today to go…_

"I take it you didn't know?" Jason asked and Roy slumped on the couch looking at him thinking that maybe Jason had actually gone crazy this time.

“ _How the fuck_ would--” he said still trying to digest the bombshell, _Tim._ “ _Timmy?_ Timmy Drake? Are you- How…?”

_Tim fucking Drake is Jason’s soulmate._

Jason chuckled a humorless laugh and said “ _Thank you,_ ” somehow sounding _vindicated_ about Roy's confusion before adding, "God, I should've called you days ago…"

_Days._

As in, he’s known _Tim Fucking Drake_ is his _fucking soulmate_ for the last couple of **_days_** _._

_Tim…_

_Holy fuck._

Tim.

Tim was Jason’s soulmate.

Roy noticed he was going in mental circles so he decided to pick his phone from the floor to try and give his brain a couple of seconds to process that.

This--- This was good news. Wasn’t it?

Considering Jason’s hidden crush on Tim, the knowledge that he was Jason’s soulmate couldn’t be bad… It should have Jason throwing a fucking party and going on a joyride on the Batmobile.

Fuck, Roy has had to pretend he wasn’t aware that Jason had a poorly concealed crush on Tim for the past three or four months. Not to mention his not so subtle attempts at not staring at Tim’s ass. Jason should be jumping in one leg. He should…

Well, quite frankly, he should be fucking the daylight out of Tim…

So, it was a bit jarring, to see Jason tell him this in that detached tone of voice.

Then again, Jason… he’d been training himself to reject his soulmate. If you ask him it was all bullshit, but… Jason believed it helped, so… So, it must have messed with him to know _Tim_ of all people was his soulmate. A soulmate Jason not only had the hots for but that he could actually get to love. A soulmate who might love him back.

Roy would have imagined Jason to be confused, then angry, then probably confused again before settling on happy. Or at least hopeful. Despite appearances, and what he told himself, Jason was quite the hopeful guy.

So it was a bit confusing…

Then, Roy realized Jason hadn’t just been trying to mess with his mind by dropping such a fucking bomb on him. He was opening up. He was telling him the reason he’d relapsed.

Tim being his soulmate was somehow related to the relapse.

Something else was going on here.

“So…” Roy said checking the phone and placing an order, avoiding looking straight at Jason. He tried to think of reasons why that might have messed Jason and nothing came up so he tried to coax Jason into talking a bit more… “Timmy… He’s pretty hot…” Roy decided to go for the safe route.

He’d mentioned that several times before, at first trying to force Jason to come to terms with the fact he was falling for his… whatever; and then, trying to force him to open up about the “crush”; a week ago, last time they’d talked, Jason had still been on denial.

But… At least, he’d managed to force Jason to agree on that point, so it wasn’t exactly surprising when Jason confirmed it his statement with a very deep “ _Fuck, yeah,_ ” that might or might not have sent a shiver to the lower part of Roy’s spine.

He remembered how he managed to force Jason to agree that Tim was _hot_. Fuck, how the _whole world_ had been forced to agree the small bird was _smoking hot_.

Maybe a year and change back, when the Bats had been settling in their whole _let’s all live together_ phase, Forbes had published one of their lists. It had been a ‘20 Promises in their 20s’, or some shit like that: College kids and young heirs and heiresses who could become the next generation’s big players.

Tim Drake had taken first place. Easy. Son of Janet Drake, a business genius; adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, a billionaire; only heir to the throne of WE with the brains to actually run the company and more than two years of field experience with a fucking perfect score. They even said Luthor himself had praised Tim. Which, in Roy's circles was actually a bad thing, but for Forbes, it had solidified their decision.

Long story short, Tim had taken the cover of the magazine. And the cover of every other magazine for the next couple weeks. Including the Gotham Gazette, which had then decided to publish _the beach photos_.

Now, Roy wasn’t into Tim. He’d never been. While he preferred women, he couldn’t say no to a guy, especially muscular and well-built guys. And Tim was kind of a lean, short guy. Theoretically, that didn’t work for him. But…

 _Damn_.

Tim had been on the beach with his then-presumed-girlfriend Stephanie Brown, they were playing tag or something and they were running around the beach. The paparazzi had had the right camera and the right angle with the right light. The sand was golden and the sea was a beautiful shade of turquoise, with breaking waves foaming on the background. Tim was center in all the pictures, looking relaxed and _casual_ , with his hair wet and his body glistening from sweat or water. And, of course, as all vigilantes, Tim’s muscles were perfectly defined and filled in the right places. The beach sand had stuck on his thighs and his back and it gave him a careless, natural look that models would only dream of.

And he was pretty much naked.

Ok, he wasn't. Technically, he was wearing red swim briefs. One that had to be like _three_ inches, because that thing was _short_ , it was _tight_ , and the paparazzi had to have been _hungry_ for Tim because in _all_ the photos you could _see_ the kid was _packing_.

Social media had gone _nuts._ So had Jason. He’d already suspected Jason had something of a crush for Tim before, but seeing him _salivate_ at the beach photos had been more than enough to confirm it.

It had been the first step on Roy’s long quest of getting Jason to admit he had the hots for Tim.

Roy shook himself off his memory as he looked back at Jason, slumped on the couch, half lost in thought. Jason wasn’t playing along, he wasn’t commenting and he wasn’t reacting… “He’s kinda young…” he said again trying to take a hit at something that would get _something_ from Jason.

He knew this was a safe comment too. It wasn’t a problem for Jason.

If his math was on point, Jason was four…ish years older than Tim; which made him six-ish years younger than him, so, around 21. It wasn’t exactly robbing the cradle, but maybe Jason had a thing for people more experienced than him. Like Thalia…

Or himself.

Not that he’s bringing that up, ever again.

He’s over that.

They both are.

“Yeah,” Jason said, not looking at him, simply staring at the mirror on the wall, but it was enough for Roy to discard that as a possible source of Jason’s state. He hadn’t flinched, or scrunched his nose, or actually done anything.

It was just how things were…

Tim was his hot and young soulmate, not really anything that would—

Then it dawned on him.

His soulmate was _Tim_. As in, the previous Robin.

The _replacement_ -Robin. Roy was starting to get Jason’s detachment.

_How the fuck did I forget that?_

“You tried to kill him,” he deadpanned and Jason closed his eyes and his hand immediately went to his arm. To his soulmark.

For a second, Roy got lost in thought as he remembered the beach photos again. _With that much skin showing… where exactly is Tim’s soulmark?_

He felt himself flush as he considered the _tiny_ patch of skin actually covered by that swimsuit.

_It couldn’t be…_

“Yeah,” Jason’s pained voice brought Roy back and he chastised himself for thinking about Jason’s soulmate like this. Jason, who was right now looking as if he was physically sick by the thought of what he’d tried to do to his soulmate.

Roy knew how much it haunted Jason It had been the hardest hurdle to jump in trying to get Jason to admit he wanted something with the younger man. He could live with trying to kill Bruce and maybe Dick. He'd made his peace with it a long time ago. But Tim. Tim, he'd regret.

Finding out Tim was his soulmate must have brought back hard memories for him.

“That what drove you over the edge?” he asked, already guessing the answer but dreading it all the same. He wouldn’t know how to fix this. He couldn’t. If _this_ was the problem, then nothing he could do would work…

Well, nothing short of kidnapping Tim, wrapping him in that red swimsuit brief and dropping him on Jason’s lap…

“Nope.” Roy’s head whipped to the side to look at Jason.

 _No?_ He…

Ok, he’d been distracted by the mental image of Jason’s face if he were to do the Tim thing, but… he hadn’t expected…

_Something **else** happened?_

He raked his brain trying to think of something else that could’ve messed Jason about having Tim as a soulmate… “The brother thing?” he tried, knowing it wasn’t it. He’d dealt with it ages ago as he came to terms with the fact that looking at Tim got him hard, so it was unlikely. Jason snorted and said a short “No”.

Which again, surprised Roy, because it meant he had gotten warmer.

So… something to do with Tim’s relationship with him… his…

Their family.

And then it was clear as day.

His first fucking thought back in Star came back to his mind. “The Bat?” he asked, and Jason actually growled.

“And the lapdog,” he added, and for the third time in as many replies, Jason’s answer baffled him.

"Dick? What they do?"

Jason scoffed before answering him, “I’m unfit to be the kid’s soulmate.”

_What?_

“What?” he asked stupidly, before the full meaning of what Jason was saying settled on his mind, “Wait, _Dick_ said that?” he asked incredulous looking at Jason, who for the first time looked back at him, with his defeated look, “ _Dick?_ ” he repeated, making Jason nod, “Richard _‘Soulmates are better than flying’_ Grayson told you you’re unfit for your own soulmate?”

Jason rolled his eyes at him as he muttered a soft “Yeah,” but there had to be something wrong there.

“ _Bullshit_ ,” he replied, without even having to _think_.

There was no way Dick would have shit on someone’s soulmate. _No way_. Let alone his ‘Little Wing’. Fuck, it was his ‘Little Wing’ AND his ‘Baby Bird’. If anything, Dick would be over the moon two of his Robins had presented and were already close to one another.

“Not really,”

_Fuck off._

His face must have shown it because Jason sighed before facing him, “Look, I’m still…” he moved his hand in a circular motion and its meaning was lost on Roy, but he simply let Jason get it out of his system, “It got me angry, I slipped, but… They’re right, Timmers can do better,” he finished looking up at the ceiling before giving another humorless cackle, “Fuck, he’s already better with the Super Boytoy.”

Roy swallowed the curse, _again._

 _Right._ He’d forgotten about the _boyfriend._

With how much Jason had bitched about Tim’s boyfriend, he was surprised he hadn’t remembered about it earlier. But with his surprise about the soulmate thing, the fact that Tim was taken hadn’t really factored in.

“I just… I need to get my head back straight…” Jason continued before Roy had a chance to say anything, “No soulmates, fuck soulmates…” he said his little mantra and Roy thought it maybe sounded a little too hysterical in his ears, but he decided to let it slide for now.

"Right…" Roy muttered unsurely. Jason had only been using that bullshit excuse to try to compartmentalize, to prepare himself for a blow he knew was to come. It was stupid, they both knew it, but it was his way of coping.

But he didn’t need to…

Not really. Because all the dark twisted stories Jason been telling himself about his own soulmate ended up being bullshit. His soulmate was Tim. Boyfriend or not, Bruce and Dick acting like assholes or not… Tim was a good guy. If Tim… Roy’s not had much interaction with the kid, but the couple times he’s come trailing after Jason for some Outlaws, or when the odd mission puts the Titans and the Outlaws on the same field, the kid always had the heart in the right place…

“What does Tim think about this,” he asked suddenly curious about Jason’s other half.

“Dunno,” Jason said, faking his lack of interest, “He ran right back to the Boytoy after he learned I knew.”

Roy looked back at Jason clicking his tongue.

Presenting to a soulmate while you are in a relationship with another is never pretty. Jealousy and disenchantment always lead to ugly scenarios. A good chunk of soulmate-related murders occurs because of previous relationships. Of course, if Tim had been with Superboy, they…

_Wait?_

_Presenting?_

Jason’s had his mark for years now. Roy’s pretty aware of that fact. Which also means Tim must have had his mark for a while too…

The last words of Jason’s answer played again in Roy’s head. “After he learned _you knew,_ ” he repeated carefully, causing Jason to laugh.

“Oh, yeah… He’s known for fucking forever, Babs too…” Roy looked at him with his mouth agape, _what?_ "And the Bat… Of course, the fucking Bat knows…"

_What?_

“You’re gonna have to explain that,” he said.

Jason groaned and asked him to get the food first, and Roy got the meaning… _this will take a second… quite a long second…_

_-_-_-_-_

It did took a while.

Roy was still wrapping his head around the amount of… everything.

Deadshot, Artificial Kryptonite poisoning, discovering the mark, spending a night on the clinic, 16 hours of self-torture, and then the conversation…

He hadn’t expected Jason to reenact the conversation almost word by word, but he’d gotten a pretty good impression of it. And fuck, he could almost feel Tim’s own pain as Jason explained how he’d been feeling unwanted, rejected by his own soulmate.

No wonder the kid went looking for a bit of love from his best friend. Not that Roy blamed him. He couldn’t, not when he knew the feeling _far too well_.

Around the end of the conversation with Tim, the delivery girl with the falafel arrived and they devoured their wraps as Jason started telling him about the beginnings of his relapse: two days in which he’d been dangerously balancing himself over the edge of his anger, mixing his guilt about hurting Tim with the knowledge that he’d been actually making everything worst by not realizing he was his soulmate.

Then the talk with Barbara, the chase against Killer Croc, and Bruce and Dick.

He couldn’t believe Dick would actually react like that to finding about Tim and Jason.

It was stupid. It was… He didn't even know how to catalog it.

Fuck, he regularly puts arrows on people who decide to separate soulmates, to think that Dick would eventually do something like this…

And it had sent Jason over the edge completely.

Which, fast forward two days, had led to Jason standing alone in a warehouse, with zero Bat back up, trying to stop a boat full of slave mongers.  One of them had been particularly savage. And a kid, no older than fifteen by Jason’s own recollection, had been wailing and begging… he was begging not to be separated from his soulmate…

They had presented just a couple of days ago and he was begging to let them see her, not to take him away from her…

The kidnappers said the wrong things too many times and Jason had snapped. He’d seen green and he’d gotten down and started beating the guys. He’d had enough control to actually let the kidnapped victims go first, before going hard on the kidnappers. And of course, the more he hit them, the angrier he got and Roy already knew the result.

By the end of the story, Roy’s mouth felt like ash and he was even more confused about what he should do to help Jason.

He got why he didn't want to leave Gotham…

But at the same time, Tim wasn’t in Gotham and Roy was pretty much certain the younger bird had to play some sort of role into bringing Jason out of whatever he was in.

This wasn't Pit Rage. This wasn't exactly a relapse. This was something new. This was closer to soulmate depression. He didn't know shit about _that_. His way of dealing with being cast aside by his soulmate was to fight crime, fuck Jason, invent arrows, fuck Kori, form the Outlaws, fuck both Jason _and_ Kori, and then, once he found out about his _daughter_ , to focus all his time and energy on Lian.

Nothing that he could actually recommend Jason. Nothing that would _help_ Jason. Not that any of that had actually helped _him_ either.

Well, maybe Lian. Definitively Lian. His little angel had saved him from letting himself go far too many times.

He sighed and moved to the kitchen to pick up two more beers and while he opened the fridge door. He tried to think about this pragmatically. He needed two things: He needed Jason to rest and recover from the last bits of anger still present and he needed to find out a little more about this whole mess. And he needed to do it in _that_ order.

So, he needed Jason to sleep. He took two pills from his hidden breast pocket and crushed them into the beer. He went back out and passed it to Jason who took a sip, made a face and took a slightly longer sip before smirking at him.

“Lormetazepam mixes poorly on drinks,” he said raising the bottle and looking at the pill residue collecting on the bottom, “Shoulda gone with clonazepam or good old Roofies,” he said giving him a pitying smile.

Trust Jason to immediately identify the kind of drug he was using. Fuck, _he_ didn't even know what kind of drug he was using, he only knew it was good for putting people to sleep. 

Still, he snorted at Jason’s suggestions, “I’m not trying to date-rape to you, Jay; I just want you to sleep for a while,” he retorted.

“Then crush some Valium,” Jason said looking at the bottle for a second before shrugging and taking another sip.

“You’re resistant to Valium,” Roy reminded Jason and the guy looked at him and smiled.

“Right…” he said before he took the bottle and downed the rest of the beer in a single gulp, making sure to take the entire thing, even the small straggler pieces that had stuck on the glass.

Roy got up from the couch and let Jason get comfortable as he moved around grabbing a blanket and placing it on top of Jason “Go to sleep, Jaybird.”

He fussed over him for a little while until he closed his eyes and was about to move when Jason's hand shot up and grabbed his own. He stayed there looking directly at Roy's eyes and he felt himself froze at the hurt open gaze.

“Why couldn’t I have just mated to you, Roy?”

The question burned like coals on his chest and Roy had to do a lot not to let the pain show, biting his tongue not to slip and tell Jason that he’d asked himself that same question a thousand times. 

"Wouldn't be fair to the Universe," he said faking a certainty he didn't feel. "We would be _too good_ together, Jay,” he finished with a cocky smile.

“Damn right…” Roy froze for a second, as Jason’s words and lopsided grin mimicked perfectly with Dinah’s words and smile just a few hours ago. He had to contain himself from moving forward and taking those hot lips again, kissing and tasting all of Jason, like he’d done many times some years back.

Before Jason came back to the Bats. Before he got Lian. Before their lives had drifted apart. Back when they’d thought they could actually have a thing together, fuck their soulmates.

Roy remembered those nights and he thought he could still taste _Jason_ sometimes.

It took a lot of self-control to move back and let Jason drift into sleep. They’d drifted apart for a reason, even if sometimes it was hard to remember. They’d been good together, but they didn’t belong together.

He _knew_ that.

It had been a nightmare moving away from him, but they’d known that continuing down the road of a relationship would only feed on each other’s fears and insecurities, they would become too dependent on each other.

Maybe in a universe where they weren’t so screwed up… Maybe in a universe in which they wouldn’t depend so much on each other’s friendship just to _be_ themselves, they could have a shot at being together.

He looked at Jason's attempts at falling asleep. So, the first thing was dealt with. Now… Roy turned around and grabbed his phone calling directly at the all-knowing Oracle. The phone only had to ring twice and Roy didn't even bother with formalities.

“Where’s Dick?”

-_-_-_-_-

“ _Dick Grayson_ ,” Roy said slamming the door on the warehouse Barbara had directed him to, “you are a fucking asshole.”

“ _Roy?_ " Dick's incredulous voice came from a room to the left where Dick was sitting in a stool. Roy started moving towards him and took a second to actually take in the state of the Warehouse, it was one of Dick's most used hideouts in Blüdhaven and yet it was completely messy. Several cartons of pizza and takeout containers spread around the floor and the two tables, as well as a couple of six-packs of beer all crumpled up.

It was obvious Dick had taken the news harder than Roy had expected.

He was about to mention it when another voice stopped him.

“Get in line, Harper,” he heard and it took a second to recognize the voice of the current Robin and Dick’s youngest brother.

“ _Pipsqueak?_ ” he asked as he walked into the room revealing Damian standing right in front of Dick, looking angry at him. “What are _you_ doing here?” Roy asked sensing the tension in the room.

“Considering your entrance, the same thing you are,” Damian said crossing his arms and glaring at Dick, who flinched under the gaze; still, Roy was confused.

“Really, _you?_ ” He hadn’t expected anyone to be confronting Dick about Tim and Jason’s soulmate status, let alone the kid who, if stories are to be believed, only considered Dick to be worthy of being called his sibling.

“Not everyone agrees with Father and Grayson’s decision, Harper,” Damian said clicking his tongue.

That was news to him. But, it was good news. If what he knew of the kid was true, then his willingness to confront Dick meant their family hadn’t set on a course of action. Roy could get Dick back on his right mind before it was too late.

“ _Well?_ ” he asked Dick, not really needing to clarify his point.

"You guys don't get it," Dick said with a long sigh like he knew he was fighting a losing battle, but he also knew he was the one on the right. "It's _Tim and Jason_. It’s… It’s got to be a mistake…”

The moment those words left Dick’s mouth, Roy realized he’d been hoping Jason had been wrong, he’d actually been expecting the situation to be somehow a little different than what Jason had narrated to him and that all he would need to do was come here, get his facts straight and drag Dick to the room to clear the air with his brother.

He’d been wrong.

Dick was somehow… convinced Tim and Jason were…"A mistake?" he repeated incredulously.

“Yes, Roy,” Dick said uncrossing his arms and standing up shaking his head, “They’re _brothers,_ for fuck’s sake. They’re _my_ brothers!” he said pointing at his heart, “Our brothers,” he added pointing at Damian, “This… This is too fucking twisted-”

“Grayson, you’re overreacting,” the kid interrupted him, and Dick’s indignant ‘ _I am not!_ ’ was undercut by his nearly hysterical tone and drowned by Damian’s voice as he kept talking “And even if you don’t think so… as I was pointing out before being interrupted, It’s not really _your_ decision to make.” Roy ignored the kid’s glare, choosing to focus on Dick’s reaction.

Dick huffed at that and walked towards Damian shaking his head, “Well, I have to do something… this is…” he started pacing around the room. “Jason tried to kill Tim, several times,” he said with barely concealed anger and disappointment and Roy had to give it to him, it was a sensible point… except Jason had done nothing but self-flagellate over that for the past two years, and right now Tim was probably Jason’s closest family member…

Roy opened his mouth to cut him off but Dick growled at him as he sensed his attempt, "He did, Roy. I don't care he's getting better, I don't care he's gone two years without an assassination attempt. He did try to kill him. And it was already beyond fucked up _before_ , but now… _Fuck!_ He didn't just try to kill his sibling, he tried to kill his _soulmate, Roy_. His own _soulmate!_ _God!_ Bruce might have the right idea about Arkham-” Roy bristled at that and Dick’s face fell a little before he closed his eyes and shook his head.

Roy was suddenly very glad he'd drugged Jason and hadn't tried to bring him here. If he'd heard Dick talk about him like this would have meant a fight he was sure neither of them was in the right mind to have.

Dick managed to cut himself before finishing but still, Roy whispered a soft _“Fuck you!_ ” that had Dick bit his lip before he continued talking, looking at him, “Then there’s the soulmate talk. He’s been saying for who fucking knows how long that he wants nothing to do with soulmates … He’s… He’s been hurting Tim, Roy.”

“And you fucking believed him?” Roy replied, tired of letting his friend dis his best friend. “This is _Jason_ , Dick. You know he’s not fucking- You think he hadn’t been hurting as well, having to close himself off and curse at his own mark?” he asked rhetorically, knowing perfectly well Dick was as aware as him that Jason’s soulmate talk was _bullshit_.

Fuck, it had been Dick who’d first convinced him that Jason’s talk was bullshit.

“Well, I don’t know that, do I?” Dick said squaring off against him rolling his shoulders, “I think- I _thought_ that before I found out the soulmate he’s been fucking cursing about was the kid he’d been _trying to_ _kill_." Dick scoffed and turned around pressing his knuckles against his forehead as if he was fighting a headache… he probably was, "And that's just _Jason_ … _Tim_ … _What the fucking hell?_ Tim’s had a soulmate for _how fucking long_ and he’s never said _a word_? He’s never mentioned the fact that he was hurt and almost killed by his _soulmate_ …" Dick was looking at Damian now and Roy gathered the kid had probably come here to present Tim's case. Which… weird… But he couldn't exactly complain. It could help get an insight into Jason's soulmate's reasons. "And he kept partnering and working with Jason, despite… What was he _thinking?_ Why didn’t he said anything? Why would he- No… I’m _done_ … this is- I stand by my decision, I stand by what I said,” Dick finished looking at both at them and daring them to argue.

And that _really_ pissed Roy off, because it was obvious to him that Dick wasn’t even _trying_ to think about what he was doing, what he was _saying_. He wasn’t trying to realize what he was doing to Jason, probably to Tim as well.

_He stands by it?_

By being in the middle of two soulmates?

By fucking with his brothers, just because he _thinks_ it’s bad?

_‘I’m unfit to be the kid’s soulmate’_

He remembered Jason’s deflated attitude, his resignation, and his _fucking pain_.

_Is that what Dick’s standing by?_

He moved closer to Dick “Are you fucking serious?” he asked with an angry voice “Do you _really_ wanna stand by that _?_ ”

Dick moved again to square off against him, in that fucking superhero self-righteous pose he keeps using whenever he thinks he’s on the right. “Yes, Roy, _I do_ ,” he repeated and Roy huffed feeling his veins on his neck heat up.

“Well, I just came from talking to Jason,” he hissed and he noticed his _friend_ didn’t react at all, probably deducing it by his very presence in the room, but everything about this told him Dick had no fucking clue about what his words had done to Jason, so Roy didn’t even care to pull his punches.

“I don’t know what you _said_ , what you _think_ you’re standing by… but I know what Jason, your brother, my _best friend_ , heard _._ He heard that you told him he’s _unfit_ to be with his soulmate. Jason heard his _big brother_ telling him he doesn’t _deserve a soulmate_. That he should _stay_ _away_ from _him_. That he’s undeserving of _being loved_ ,” he continued ignoring Dick’s choked noise and his attempts at interrupting him, feeling a heat on his chest spread and he took a step forward “So, I fucking wanna hear you say that to me again, _asshole_ ,” he walked up to Dick and poked him hard on his chest, not fucking caring about confronting an emotional Bat “Tell me again you’re standing by _that, you fucking Dick_.”

Dick shook his head looking pained as he took a step back… “Wh- That- That’s not… _No_!” he exclaimed before pushing him a step back, “You’re taking this out of context, Roy,” he growled at him evidently angry.

_Yeah, God forbid anyone suggesting Dick had hurt one of his baby-birds. Well, fuck you, you did. You fucking do it a lot, even if you don’t wanna see it at first._

He wasn’t able to say it, though, because the kid cut him off, “He’s really not, Grayson,” Damian said with a collected voice, “Drake agrees, this is beyond cruel.”

Roy nodded at the kid.

_Cruel._

That’s the adjective he was looking for earlier. This was _cruel_. Almost inhuman. To forcibly separate soulmates, it was a very harsh punishment, fuck, not even death-row criminals were forbidden from being with their soulmates; they’re allowed considerable time and connection to their soulmates.

"Dick, just take a second to hear yourself…" Roy tried to reason with him and feeling a calming effect from looking at Damian's composed attitude, knowing to confront Dick will probably result in him closing off.

His touch must have been off, because Dick reacted badly turning at him and growling, “I am, hearing myself _fine_ , it’s you guys that are not-”

“No,” Damian cut him off, sighing and then hardening his gaze on Dick, “We’re not _twisting_ anything if that's what you wanted to suggest. I- I was going to let this go, to agree with you and Father and defer to your judgment. I thought I could just take a step back despite feeling _sick_ at the thought of… _doing_ _this_. But thankfully, _my soulmate_ made me see this is _wrong_ ,” he confessed and he was coming closer to Dick almost touching his arm.

Dick took a step closer to him and put his arm on Damian’s shoulder, “Dami… You’re a kid, you-” Roy saw how those words were _wrong_ and decided to cut Dick off before he dug himself into a hole that would take this conversation off the rails.

“ _Do not_ play the kid card, Dick,” he said moving ahead and turning Dick away from a scowling Damian “I’m here too and I agree with the kid. Actually, out of the two of you, he’s being the mature one,” he said nodding at the kid who schooled his face and nodded back.

“Grayson, please… what you're suggesting is to forcibly separate two soulmates," the kid said with an even tone of voice and Roy saw the moment the words registered in Dick's brain and how his first instinct was to take a step back and deny it before he realized he couldn't.

And he couldn’t because Damian was right.

This is what it boiled down to.

Not Tim and Jason. Not his baby brothers. Two soulmates, being kept apart by him.

Roy had known Dick for the good part of a decade, easy. And in all that time one thing had stayed the same until now: Dick loved soulmates. He lived for the soulmate happy ending. It was why it was almost impossible for him to imagine what Jason had said, what Dick was telling him now.

“Think about that,” Damian said, probably also noticing Dick’s reaction. His attempt at fighting off the reality of what he was doing.

Fuck the fact that they were his brothers.

Fuck the past between them.

Tim and Jason were joined by something greater than themselves. And Dick had been a champion of that kind of bond ever since he'd known of its existence. Still, Roy could see resistance in Dick. He could see his stupid brain working overtime trying to fight off his own emotions in favor of whatever was moving him to stand between them.

But Roy wasn’t about to let that happen.

_God, I hope Jason can forgive me for this one._

Roy knew what telling a Bat about this would mean. He will probably have to smuggle Jason out of Gotham before the end of the week, but it didn’t matter. Right now, Jason was in the edge of soulmate depression and he needed Dick back on his side. Unfortunately, that meant telling the Bats about this.

“Jason killed again,” he deadpanned and Dick and Damian both spun and stared at him in synchronicity, with different shades of horror in their faces. “That’s why I’m here,” he continued planting both feet firmly and deciding that betraying his best friend here would be more important than preserving the two, maybe three days it would take the Bats to connect the dots and go for a _Red Hood Hunt_ once the warehouse debacle pops up in their radar. “He went crazy on some slave mongers, he beat them to death in a warehouse out by the piers.”

Roy decided to keep the part about it being mostly accidental a secret, he could probably use it as _mitigation_ later on, when he’s having to reason with whichever Bat decides to come after them. Right now, he needs to focus on what’s important. “He’s a wreck, Dick,” he said looking at Dick in the eyes, so he could see Roy wasn’t lying about this. “You’re breaking your own brother,” he finished, hoping to tap on Dick’s love for his Little Wing.

Dick was still looking at him shocked and was about to say something, probably grill him about the warehouse, when Damian talked, "Drake's not happy either…" he said, "He's on his way here, to speak to Father."

Roy considered that information for a second, the beginnings of a plan coming together in his mind.  

_That’s good. This…_

“Dick, they’re your brothers, you said so yourself…” Roy said standing closer and putting his hand on Dick’s shoulder, “Why the fuck aren’t you helping them _get together as soulmates_? Isn’t that what _brothers_ are supposed to do?”

“I…” Dick stammered softly “It’s…” Roy could see this was hard on Dick, even if he didn’t quite follow where he was coming from. He held his hand on Dick’s shoulder as a reassurance, as Damian walked closer.

"I don't know if they'll end up together, Grayson…" he said firmly even though his voice was almost a soft whisper, "But, I am sure as hell, not going to help to keep them apart." And with that, he turned away and left the warehouse.

Roy looked at the retreating figure of Damian and he frowned. _That’s it?_

He turned to see Dick and then back at the window the kid had jumped from.

He’d expected the kid to stay and help him steer Dick in the right direction, but he just turned and left, as if he’d achieved his purpose. He looked again at Dick who was still scowling and looking conflicted and he thought that maybe the kid had seen something in his posture that told him his mission was accomplished, but whatever it was Roy wasn’t seeing it.

He still could see the doubts in Dick’s mind and he wasn’t leaving this place until he got Dick to admit to him that he’d been fucking wrong and that he needed to fix things with Jason.

Dick sighed heavily and sat on a puff he had by a window. Roy went with him and sat on the windowsill.

“You’re messing this up, Dickhead,” he said softly and Dick sighed, looking at him.

“I cannot see them like this, Roy,” Dick said putting his face between his hands, “It’s… Soulmates aren’t supposed to be family members,” he said shaking his head and Roy groaned at the beginning of the argument all over again. Maybe the kid had had a point leaving now…

But then Dick sighed dropping his shoulders "I don't wanna hurt them. Never. You know that" Dick said with a broken voice and Roy moved his hand, weaving his fingers through Dick's hair in a motion he knew soothed the acrobat.

"I know that Dick," he said softly.

Even though Dick sometimes had a hard time with his brothers, he always did what he thought was right by them. No one could ever accuse Dick of _not_ _loving_ _them_ and Roy wasn’t going to start now, even though the reasoning behind his actions so far had been beyond unconvincing.

“Why Jason and Tim, though?” Dick complained dropping himself in his puff and moving away from Roy’s hand, “They make no sense, Roy. They’ve…” he was staring now at the ceiling and Roy could see the bags on his eyes and the desperate expression in his face, looking more tired and broken than a second ago and Roy gathered Dick had been willing himself not to fully break down and open up in front of Damian, trying to look confident and certain in front of his baby brother. He couldn’t blame him, he did the same to Lian.

It was supposed to be one of the things _adults_ did.

“They’re supposed to be with people that make them happy, Roy,” Dick said with a broken voice and rubbing his face with his hands “My brothers are supposed to be happy, they deserve that.”

Roy scoffed at that, “Who says they won’t be?”

Dick only turned to him and leveled him a glare, "Tim is fated to his would-be killer," Dick said with a clean dark voice, "One that doesn't want soulmates," he reminded Roy, and he was about to contradict that point, but Dick continued. "And Jason is fated to his would-be victim, one that will forever remind him of his worst days,” he finished and held his stare for half a second, before staring back to the ceiling.

“Dick, that’s not-”

“No, _it is_ , Roy,” Dick cut him off, “Jason told me, over a year ago, when we were convincing him to move into the Manor. We were talking about him partnering up more with Tim and he told me he couldn’t see Tim’s face without remembering what he’d done to him; that the mark on his neck was-” Dick cut himself and he shook his head violently, “And now he’s supposed to live the rest of his life with it?” he said with a broken voice, “They both are?”

And Roy finally understood.

Yeah, the whole brother thing could be bothersome and Dick might have reacted badly to it initially, and it might actually mess with his mind, but… But that could be swatted away by the actual match.

It’s what they are. End of discussion.

But, if Dick believed… if he truly considered Tim and Jason to be dangerous to one another… If he believes that their mating would be _painful to them_ …

Roy couldn’t speak for Tim, but… “Did you know Jason’s been pinning after Tim for a while now?” he asked softly looking at him. Dick’s head snapped at him his mouth slightly agape. “What?!”

“Yeah, long before the-” Roy motioned to his arm, to where Jason’s mark was, “Jason’s actually growing up the balls ask him out,” Dick was gaping at him and Roy actually laughed, rolling his eyes at Dick’s blindness, “He thinks it’s a secret and I think he’d been deluding himself that this has been something else, but-”

He let Dick digest the news for a couple of seconds before he continued after it became apparent Dick was not ready to react to that. "Look, I-" he tried to organize his thoughts looking at Dick, "I'm not asking you to become their cheerleader or to go around preparing their wedding," he said smiling at Dick's scrunched nose at the thought, he'll need some time to adjust, obviously, "Just… Let them-"

_Just let them be._

_Just let them try._

_Just let them live._

“What if they hurt each other?” Dick asked him and Roy sighed and moved away from the window.

“They make sure you’re there for them,” he shrugged. That’s all they can do, really… For their brothers, their friends… He decided Dick had enough things to think through and he was unlikely to actually get anything else from him tonight.

Turns out the kid had been right: he wasn’t getting a definitive answer from Dick tonight.

Dick’s voice stopped him as he was walking out, “Is Jason-”

“You can’t see him. Not now,” Roy said, knowing perfectly well what Dick was about to ask, and also knowing how Jason would react to Dick showing up and asking about the warehouse. “Just… Fuck, Dick, just try to untangle this mess. If anyone can, it might be you…” _or maybe Tim…_

The kid had said something interesting and Roy’s mind was going a thousand miles an hour coming up with an idea...

He’d thought coming to Dick would be the way of having someone on Jason’s corner to fight off Bruce’s bullshit. But now… He might get to be able to get Tim to actually talk to Jason.

_-_-_-_-_

Roy entered Jason’s hideout and took out his phone, sending a quick message to Dinah, telling her it would take two or three more days for him to be back home and sending a voice message to Lian thanking her for being good and reminding her not to stay up too late.

After playing Lian’s goodnight message twice, he put his phone down with a smile on his face and sat on the chair, trying to decide if he should take Jason’s bed tonight or wake him up and take his place on the couch.

He nearly jumped a foot up when Jason, without moving a muscle, started talking to him. “Done yelling at him?”

After calming his heart and swallowing the curse and the yell the asshole deserved, he simply muttered a harsh “Yeah.” No need to ask who ‘ _him’_ was. They both knew he wasn’t stupid enough to go yelling at Bruce fucking Wayne.

Jason hummed and then opened his eyes and stared at him before saying “You told him.” It wasn’t a question and Roy wasn’t sure if he meant about the warehouse, the Pit Rage or his crush.

Still, the answer was the same. 

“Yeah,” he said.

Jason sighed and closed his eyes again before asking, “Do I need to pack?”

_So. He’d been asking about the warehouse…_

“Yeah,” he said in the same tone of voice and saw Jason sigh heavily before he amended, “I cut my family time short for this bullshit, so after this mess is over you’re coming with me and we’re taking Lian camping.”

Jason's eyes were open again and he was looking at him trying to sense some trickery, before he narrowed his eyes at him, "After?" he asked and Roy had hoped Jason would focus on the camping and ignore that tidbit until tomorrow…

Well… No luck.

“Batman’s kid said Tim’s coming to Gotham,” he explained and he saw when Jason understood his meaning.

He sat down and glared at him, but when Roy didn’t react he growled, “I am **_not_** -”

“Yes, you are,” Roy cut him off, before he even finished, “We both know the whole ‘ _fuck soulmates_ ’ has only been a front, Jason,” he reminded him. Jason might say all this bullshit about how he’s the big bad Red Hood and how he’s the _real macho_ with no emotions, but truth be told, he still was the literary nerd who enjoyed feminist novels and soulmate happy endings. And that wasn’t even the main argument as to why he needed to talk to the kid, “And we both know how you feel about Tim,” he finished as he saw Jason reading himself to contradict him, “how you _really_ feel.”

Jason stopped whatever he wanted to say and glared at him for a second. “I don't feel anything for him... And it doesn't even matter because he doesn’t…” Roy rose his eyebrow before Jason finished that, in what he expected was coming off as a no-nonsense poker face.

_That’s bullshit._

From what Jason’s been saying, there’s been just about enough miscommunication and assumptions from these two, for him to let Jason just add another fucking layer of ‘ _I guess he just doesn’t like me’_ to the mix.

_Enough with the bullshit._

“Why am I even listening? You can’t make me talk to him,” Jason huffed crossing his arms petulantly and Roy simply grinned as his eyebrow rose higher at his friend’s childish attempt at rebuffing him. Luckily, being a parent actually came with practice on dealing with childish tantrums.

One way or another, Jason’s talking to Tim before his three days are over and he has to drag Jay-Jay’s ass back to Lian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I'm sorry it's taken me a little longer than usual to post this chapter, and I'm really sorry I haven't been able to reply to any of your comments from the previous one. 
> 
> I've had a terrible couple of weeks with family problems, a funeral, two missed deadlines at work... The only reason I'm actually able to post it's because I had this chapter half-written two weeks ago. 
> 
> I'm really excited about this chapter, it came out easier than the Bruce-Tim conversation, and I think I managed to get a good look to Dick's reasons. Next chapter will be Dick's POV so I'll go deeper into it then.
> 
> I hope you like this.


	10. Chapter 10

Dick revved up his bike getting the needle of his speedometer dangerously close to the three-digit mark. He felt the landscape around the highway start to blur on the sides and the crisp evening air was hitting against his bare arms, like small needles pricking his pores.

He swerved left to stay on the fast lane and sped ahead of a small truck probably going to Gotham to make some last-minute delivery. He focused on the road and tried to shake the claustrophobic feeling that had buried in his bones for the last four hours since Roy left his apartment.

It was the reason he'd gotten on the bike and started driving… anywhere. He didn't have a destination and it was just his muscle memory that had taken him to the Blüd-Gotham Highway. He'll probably just get to the Lincoln statue at the entry of the city and drive back on the nearly deserted highway.

A draft swept up his t-shirt making him shrug the cold away. He sighed heavily cursing his lack of foresight and wishing for the jacket he’d left draped over a chair in his living room. His breath felt stuffed in his full-face helmet and Dick was tempted to take it off, but a voice in the back of his brain kept repeating _Safety First_. A very _Bruce_ -like voice.

He shrugged it off and accelerated his bike, finally darting above the three digits and feeling free.

_‘What you're suggesting is to forcibly separate two soulmates.’_

Damian's voice crept back into his brain making Dick clench his teeth. This was exactly what he has been trying to escape from, but apparently, his brain was unable to completely shut up, even when hitting 109 miles per hour on a near deserted highway.

He’d tried to contradict Damian as soon as those words had left his mouth. He _didn’t suggest that_. He _wasn’t trying to do that_. Damian was wrong, he just was. Dick wasn’t trying to separate two soulmates, he simply was protecting his brothers.

Yesterday, he had focused on the fact that he was trying to prevent Jason and Tim from hurting each other. That was it. What he’d agreed with Bruce was the best course of action. He didn’t want to keep them apart, but in the end, it’s what he was doing. It had taken Damian’s honest description for him to actually connect the dots and realize what he was proposing. He was trying to keep two soulmates apart.

Soulmates, whose bond existed to ensure each person has the love, support, and strength needed to be their best version of themselves. That's what he's always believed. That's what his mum had thought him and he'll probably keep believing it until he dies.

Tim and Jason… That’s what they were… And he’d tried to stand in the middle of their bond.

If Roy’s description of Jason’s state was accurate, then he hadn’t just tried, he was fucking succeeding in doing so. He felt bile creep up his stomach as he thought about what Roy had said. Jason had started to get down a road that only led to Soulmate Depression. Roy hadn’t used those words exactly, but it was easy enough to read between the lines.

Bond Melancholy. Loner’s Acedia. Soulmate Depression. The psychological disorder had had many names and a lot of people knew at least one story or a folk tale about two soulmates separated from one another and driven to depression. He remembers, from his training in the Police Academy, that the proper name was Hormonally-induced Catatonic Depression or _HICD_ and that it was one of seven types of depressive disorders to be formally diagnosed and recognized by the psychology association as a major mental disorder.

In its worst form, HICD is a life-threatening mental disorder in which a person separated from their soulmate starts slowly receding into an inactive and detached state. If he remembers his classes correctly, there are two main sources of HICD: the death of a soulmate and the forced separation of two soulmates. In the first case, HICD starts painfully and then slowly recedes. The second case is worse.

The voice of his _criminal psych_ professor started echoing in his brain as soon as Roy’s description had hit home. _People with HICD start slowly losing any pleasure and interest from normal activities, slowly secluding themselves into their minds. In the most extreme of cases, HICD drives a person immobile or they start wandering aimlessly around familiar places. They can respond either aggressively or not at all to external stimuli…_

He'd come across a couple of cases of soulmate depression on the different takedowns of human trafficking he'd participated on. He'd hated to see what those monsters did to people. HICD was one of the reasons some slave-mongers liked to use soulmates as sex-slaves, they like to force soulmate depression on their victims. That nearly catatonic state meant they rarely tried to escape after a while. They just resigned themselves and the slavers would then pump them full of drugs, enough to make them active for their _clients_ , but docile enough to be manageable.

It was horrifying.

It was disgusting.

And it was the reason every Leaguer and every superhero team took human trafficking rings with _extreme_ prejudice.

Fuck, not even three weeks ago he was in Chicago helping Vic take down one of those rings. Because it was a fucking disgusting thing that almost everyone agreed needed to be _eradicated._

And now, he was getting his brother in that situation.

Well… not exactly _that_ situation.

Yes, the forced separation was _bad_ , and as police and a vigilante, he dealt with the _extreme_ cases. But for most people soulmate depression was a milder condition that didn't merit being cataloged as HICD, it was as any other depression in that regard, there were milder cases of normal depression that didn't merit being cataloged as a full-blown mental disorder. 

Most of the time, a bad breakup between soulmates cause people to get _somewhat_ depressed, but not necessarily HICD, even if it was always a risk. So he wasn’t… He wasn’t driving Jason and Tim into a major depressive disorder. He wouldn’t. At best they’d… get depressed… but he wouldn’t let it get that bad.

_He wouldn’t._

Plus, there were a couple of things that helped separated soulmates avoid HICD: keeping in touch with their soulmates, forming significant bonds with other people, never having met their soulmates. There _were_ treatments for soulmate depression. 

Keeping in touch isn't always nice, especially in a bad breakup, but it's supposed to help with the pain and the seclusion. Having significant bonds, mainly with kids, the family of the lost soulmate, or even – eventually – a new significant other was supposed to help surviving soulmates. And never knowing the soulmate… well, Dick supposes that helps the soulmates whose marks appeared one day, only to feel the pain of the death in an unfulfilled bond. It happened from time to time.

So, really, he’s not honestly driving Jason and Tim into anything… They could easily substitute their bond. They can just treat this as a bad break and keep in touch as Tim and Jay, as Red Robin and Red Hood… They can…

Surely they wouldn’t let it get into… _He’s **not** driving them into HICD. _

Roy… Roy must have exaggerated what he’d seen…

He might have been prejudiced, what with him being a survivor of soulmate depression after Cheshire left him alone, only to resurface a couple of years later with Lian. Lian, who'd then become one of the main reasons to drive Roy out of that detached state he'd barely managed to survive. So that's it… Dick's not actually doing anything to Jason. This just hit Roy close to home… That's all…

That…

_Yeah, right…_

Dick swallowed at the mental image of Bab’s unimpressed/slightly disappointed face. He always got that mental image whenever his mind provided a stupid suggestion to a mental riddle. But he wasn’t being stupid right now…

_‘He’s a wreck, Dick. You’re breaking your own brother.’_

A sign on the highway caught his eye and he saw the familiar exit fast approaching, he cursed and after quickly glance at the red sedan behind him, he veered right in an almost 90 degrees angle feeling his veins flare up as the red sedan angrily honked at him, only missing his back wheel by a couple of inches. Dick barely heard the choice expletives from the driver as his bike took the nearly missed exit and he had to brake to give his heart a chance to slow down.

_He almost missed his exit._

It wasn't until that thought crossed his mind that Dick looked up to the winding road ahead frowning. He knew this road. Of course, he knew it. It was a bypass route that connected the Blüd-Gotham Highway with Interstate 80, which was the west-bound highway that connected Gotham to Metropolis. And also Chicago, New York, Omaha, Las Vegas, San Francisco… and practically every city west of Gotham, which… considering Gotham is a coastal city _at the_ _East Coast_ that basically means every other place in America.

The bypass also connected a bunch of small rural counties adjacent to Gotham to the main highway…

And it also led to Wayne Manor.

 _This_ was the exit he took to go to the Manor. Not the Cave, not the Gotham access… this bypass was the route he took when he wanted to go _home_. But he wasn’t supposed to be going home. He was supposed to be going to the Lincoln monument at the start of the Highway only to make a 180 and turn back to Blüd… His muscle memory and lack of concentration had made him take the familiar exit instead of continuing as intended.

He sighed and took off his helmet passing his hands three times through his hair in desperation.

His arms, which up until now had been painfully protesting the cold and the wind, were starting to heat up, becoming itchy and uncomfortable. Dick rubbed them a couple of times to encourage the blood to circulate better as he contemplated the road ahead.

_What the fuck is wrong with me…_

Dick was instantly glad he’d had the good judgment of not taking to the streets last night and skipping his job this morning. With the way his mind kept distracting him, he would have been riddled with bullets by now. He needed to get his head straight again.  He knew he needed to stop thinking about this Tim and Jason shit, so he decided to pay a visit home.

Roy had made it clear he'd stand in the way of talking to Jason, at least for tonight, but that didn't mean he couldn't talk with the other half of this mess.

He kick-started his bike again and drove up to the Manor with that thought in his mind.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Despite his attempts at clearing his mind, _Tim and Jason_ had been the only thought he'd been able to have in the twenty-minute drive up the Manor. He'd given up ignoring it and tried to organize his mind ahead of his coming talk.

He knew Tim and Jason had been soulmates for five, maybe six years…

Jason had confirmed he'd had the soulmark since waking up, so he either got it at the Pit or he got it when he crawled out of the coffin. In either case, he got it, he trained, and he was poisoned by the Pit and Talia and Ra's. And then he came and tried to kill everyone. Including his soulmate. Who he didn't recognize, somehow… And then he tried to kill him again and again… Until he didn't. Until he stopped. And if Roy's to be believed, he didn't just stop trying to kill him, he went full 180 and ended up crushing on the man who was unbeknown to him, his own soulmate.

And then there was Tim, who hid a soulmark for _years._ Dick hadn’t known _when_ Tim had found out about it. Despite talking about soulmates _extensively_ to his baby brother. And then his soulmate had shown up only to try to kill him. And then he'd had to live with his soulmate. And 

Dick hadn’t even notice Tim reacting adversely to Jason.

Why hadn't he, though? If Babs tried to slit his throat with a knife he'd be devastated and he'd fall into a serious case of HICD. Tim hadn't. Instead, he'd… what? Befriended Jason? Acted as if nothing happened? _Bull. Shit._

Tim must have had a reaction to finding out his soulmate was trying to kill him. It should’ve _burned his soul_. He hadn't managed to wrap his head around it by the time he arrived at the Manor, so as he parked and entered the place with his spare key, he decided he wanted an answer out of Tim about this.

The house sounded empty when he came in.

The kitchen, one of the first places you arrived to, either by the main door or by the old grandfather’s clock, was currently empty, which by itself was a signal that the house was mostly empty. There was always someone in or near the kitchen. It was one of the family’s unofficial meeting places, along with the Cave and that drawing room in the west wing’s second floor that had an entertainment set, a couple loveseats, a divan, half a dozen individual chairs, two or three long tables and, of course, per Damian’s request an actual 19-century ten-feet tall drawing board that could fit a wall-sized canvas. He knew Damian was currently working on something there, but he’d refused to let anyone see what it was yet.

With the kitchen empty and no music coming from the west wing, he decided to try his luck at Tim’s room, hoping he would actually be there. If he’d yelled at Bruce, as Damian had seemed to imply yesterday, it was possible Tim had skipped the Manor and gone to the Penthouse, but Dick held hope he’d come to his room to sulk, so he turned to take the main staircase up to the second floor.

Turning at the hallway, he saw the retreating figure of Alfred, who was starting to go up the stairs with a bundle of linen beddings in his hands. "Alfie," he yelled at the old man with a smile on his lips and running up to meet him up.

"Master Dick!" came Alfred's surprised voice turning to see him and his face made Dick stop in his tracks, a couple of steps behind him. Alfie always greeted him with a smile. A warm smile and sparkly eyes. He never _not_ had a smile when greeting him. “I was not expecting you tonight,” he said with a curt nod and tense lips and Dick felt a pit of darkness settle deep in his belly.

"You're mad," he said, not really questioning it. He could see it from miles away. He tried not to flinch at Alfred's soft sigh. Still, the small shake of his head and the hand on his shoulder was enough to calm his childish fear of having Alfred mad at him. His relief was short-lived, though, as Alfred started talking as he moved up, refusing Dick's attempts at taking the beddings from his hands.

“Disappointed about the way _some_ have handled these new discoveries,” he said softly, with a hard voice that left no doubt Dick was one of those _some_ and that the new discoveries were Tim and Jason's bonded status.

"You didn't know?" he asked, quite frankly a little surprised. It was not every day that one of the Bats manages to hide something like this to Alfred. He had Batman's keen detective skills paired with all the emotional intelligence Bruce lacked.

“I suspected- The _mark_ was an honest surprise.” Alfred looked ahead at the staircase as they slowly walked up. He _suspected…_ Dick wasn’t sure it was about the bond or about their relationship. Roy’s words about Jason’s _crush_ ringed back in Dick’s mind, but before he was able to comment about it, Alfred chuckled and continued, “It is somehow comforting to know even our closest family members have the ability to surprise us in wholly unexpected ways,” he said before turning and raising an eyebrow, “Some less pleasantly than others,” he said, and the look was completely unnecessary, because even if Alfred didn’t change the tone of voice, Dick was completely aware that he was talking _about_ him.

He's the one that gave him an unpleasant surprise. He felt the pit of shame grow from his belly and cover his chest. He had to swallow hard and hummed uncomfortably to let Alfred know he _got_ the message.

“So, you don’t agree with Bruce,” ‘ _and I’_ he mentally finished, though the addition wasn’t needed as Alfred simply closed his eyes continuing to walk up the stairs in silence. Dick’s fingers were suddenly itchy and he had to resist the urge to run his hands over his clothes and wrangle his shirt between his fingers waiting for an answer.

Once Alfred got to the second floor he stooped and faced Dick, his eyes were sad but honest, looking directly at him. "There are a great many things I disagree with Master Bruce," he said and it was painfully true, Dick had been there when Alfred expressed some of those disagreements, "I did expect _you_ to be on the other end of the argument, my child.” Dick had to swallow hard because the disappointment patent in Alfie’s voice was doing horrible things to his heart. He’d talked long and hard with Jason, and lately Tim, about how Bruce had this aura around him that drove people to try and impress him, to make him proud. Hearing or feeling disappointment from Bruce was like a cold knife to your gut. A wound that you wanted to heal by never again failing him.

They'd never talked about how seeing the disappointment in Alfred's eyes carved your heart out and let you heaving for breath. It made you want to crawl into yourself and ask, no, beg for forgiveness. Because Alfred was never disappointed. If he was, you'd screw so bad you deserved the punishment.

He’d seen those eyes look at him in disappointment several times. Each time he’d felt ashamed and he’d asked forgiveness… and counsel. Because that was the other thing Alfred did that Bruce never quite managed to convey. Alfred’s disappointment was also met with the hope of amendment. Of growth.

“It’s hard Alfie, they’re… They have too much history. They’re family. They…” he tried to explain, tried to tell him why he was thinking what he was thinking. Why he thought maybe… But Alfred simply shook his head and placed a hand on his arm, squeezing hard.

“They are adults,” he said meeting his eyes “Wonderful adults with complicated lives and a heart-wrenching track record of near death and _actual death_ experiences. And they are _my children_ ," Alfred's strength at that last word resonated hard with Dick and he was about to interrupt but Alfred continued, "So they deserve happiness. Even if it's just the promise of it. And they deserve not to have their own family stand in between them while they search for it," he finished and then patted him on the shoulders three times before his gaze fell on Tim's room and back on his eyes with clear intent.

_Well, at least now I know Tim’s home._

Alfred turned away towards the back rooms with a soft departing word that Dick didn't really hear but still replied automatically as Roy's voice resonated in his brain.

_‘Why the fuck aren’t you helping them get together as soulmates? Isn’t that what brothers are supposed to do?’_

Was that really what he should be doing?

The pit in his chest moved up again to lodge in his throat as he took a deep breath.

_I can’t… They’re hurting and they’ll hurt more… I have to do something._

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t know what that something should be since his original plan of helping Tin and Jason find happiness somewhere else had been turned in its head by Roy and Dami… and who would’ve thought Dami of all people would be the one to stand up for Tim. Dick would have expected an angry right hook from Steph or a silent reprieving stare from Cass before the brutally honest half-glares from Damian. Speaking of… _where were Steph and Cass in all this?_ He hadn’t heard from them since… well since Croc…

Dick sighed coming into Tim's room, clearing his thoughts.

He mentally arranged his priorities:

  1. _Confirm Tim knows about Jason._
  2. _Find out if he wants to be with Jason._
  3. _Assure him I’ll support whatever he decides… Yes, whatever he decides… that… Yeah…._
  4. _Find out why he lied all this time about being markless._



That sounded about right. If he manages those four things, he’ll… He’ll call it a win.

He sighed again and knocked and opened the door after receiving a soft growl in response from inside. He walked into Tim's messy bedroom to find his little brother with street clothes, sprawled on his bed, one foot still on the ground and with his tablet held above his head. He had a frown on his face as he looked at something while his thumbs furiously tapped on the device. Dick was honestly surprised at how he was managing to write while holding the tablet above his head. Whenever he tried that with his phone, he almost always ended up with the phone hitting him in the nose and face.

Tim didn’t let him continue down that particular digression as he turned to the door and Dick realized he hadn’t said anything yet, “Hey Timmy,” he said trying to convey a façade of happiness and normalcy he was definitively not feeling.

It didn’t seem to work for Tim either, because he scowled and huffed turning his attention back to the tablet before saying with a dispassionate voice “You’re an asshole, Dick.” And quite frankly, he would have preferred Tim to yell and throw the tablet at him, because then, he’d be mad and Dick would have been able to deal with a mad Tim. But _this._ This was Tim _not caring._

 “I- I’m sorry,” he tried to say with a regretful voice but it ended up coming off as a question. As if he was doubting himself. As if he was doubting he actually had anything to be sorry for.

Tim looked up at him with a blank and totally unimpressed face before rolling his eyes and focusing back on his tablet, "Whatever. I'm not the one you should be apologizing, anyway." And while the knife in his heart was getting in deeper by Tim's uncaring attitude, Dick was really glad he didn't follow up with the traditional _‘Sorry about what?’_ because he wasn’t really sure how he would have answered that.

He was sorry, yes, because Roy and Damian had made it clear his actions were unwarranted and potentially harmful. And he’d hurt Jason **and** Tim. He’d hurt him enough to have Tim fly all the way from Titans Tower to… yell at Bruce, according to Damian…

He shook his head trying to stay on point.

“You’re not?” he asked trying to steal Tim’s focus from the tablet and to direct this _whatever_ they’re having right now, towards something resembling a real conversation. Tim was very unhelpful as he shrugged still typing angrily. Dick sighed heavily at his uncooperative brother and walked into the room being careful not to step on the carelessly thrown sweaters and socks, to sit next to Tim.

"Ok, yeah, I know. I messed up, but… all of this just blindsided me," he replied honestly and was really glad Tim left the tablet on the side and was focusing on him, probably guessing correctly Dick wasn't about to simply let himself be ignored. So, he decided to focus on trying to get Tim to see why he'd ‘ _freaked out’_ about their bond _._ “Look, you have to… We’d just came back from dealing with Croc. You’d gone behind out backs and stolen a weapon; which, BTW, we _are_ having a talk about handling weapons _safely_ , especially unknown weapons, and double especially, that little tidbit about running at super-speed with said weapons… That was reckless **and** stupid.” Dick leveled Tim with a glare when he tried to roll his eyes at him. Tim shrugged and that caused Dick to narrow his eyes until Tim surrendered.

Tim was a Bat. Bats don’t do recklessly stupid. Bats ran teams whose teammates did recklessly stupid things and a Bat’s job was to point it out and then whip them into shape until they stopped being reckless or stupid. They simply couldn’t allow themselves the slip. Not when they’re usually the team members without superpowers.

Still, he had gone on a tangent, so once Tim resigned to the fact that the safety conversation _was happening_ in the near future, he continued, “Anyway, Mission went well, Jason got weird, Bruce got broody and they went to yell at each other in private. At least that’s what I saw. That’s what I thought was happening. I know how to deal with that scenario. But then one second, I’m thinking ‘ _Oh, I better stop Bruce and Jason from messing up the peace tonight’_ , and then the next thing I know, Jason’s yelling at me, telling me my two baby brothers are _soulmates?_ And look, I’m not justifying myself here…” he tried to say seeing Tim staring at him and looking as if he wanted to protest, but he simply scoffed at the last bit and Dick thought that maybe yeah… he was justifying himself, but… “Ok, yes I am… but I know I messed up, and I’m not… I mean, I _know_ I messed up, ok? Roy and Damian already drilled it… Suggesting that we should keep you two apart, especially without having talked to the two of you beforehand, that was… cruel, ok? I- I do _get_ that…”

Tim straightened up in his bed at that and narrowed his eyes at him.

“Keeping us apart…” he parroted back and Dick nodded at him trying to show how much he was sorry about that, but then Tim hummed and moved his hand tapping against his mattress in a tight movement of angry frustration, “And how about the part where you said Jason he _couldn’t be_ my soulmate?” he said biting back on a simmering anger Dick almost never sees directed at him. Tim crossed his arms resting his back against the headboard glaring at him, “I don’t give a shit about you and Bruce thinking you can keep us apart against our will… not that there’s an ‘us’ to begin with, but honestly, I expect shit like that from Bruce, and quite frankly it doesn’t matter that much. No, what I cannot quite process is _you_ telling Jason that he _cannot_ , that he _should not_ be my soulmate. That the fact that we have this bond is _wrong._ And coming from _you,_ the one who’s always preaching about soulmate love…” Tim ended still glaring at him drilling holes into his face and Dick felt the pit return full force, turning itself into an uncomfortable sludge of burning tar.

He'd been so focused on Roy's words about how Jason had taken the fact that they wanted to separate them, how Damian was against separating soulmates, about how he could've failed to consider he might be driving his brothers into HICD; he hadn't taken a second to actually analyze how it might feel for Jason to hear him say he didn't think he should be with Tim.

 _‘Jason heard his big brother telling him he doesn’t deserve a soulmate. That he’s undeserving of being loved.’_ Roy’s words rang in his head in a fraction of a second. He wanted to protest Tim, but the anger in the kid’s face made him remember the last time Jason had looked at him like that.

His last words as he stormed off the manor half a week ago.

_‘Hypocritical asshole.’_

He tried to remember what he’d told Roy yesterday, about how Tim and Jason could end up hurting each other. And now that he takes a moment to think about it, there’s a lot he wants to say.

For starters, he wants to tell Tim that there was too much history between them for this to work. That Jason had hurt him and that if they started dating, the ghost of his actions would probably haunt them forever, driving them insane.

He wanted to yell at him that he’s been bottling up too much, that he’d internalized so much of the hurt and the pain it was bound to blow up in their faces. He wanted to tell him that they were hurting, that they’ve both been hurting for so long, and it was too much.

He wants to tell him he finally gets what Jason meant when he said he hated that stupid scar in his neck. A scar Jason’s fucking terrified of.

And thinking about that, he finally realized why he wanted to tell Tim that he was sorry. Because he was. He was sorry for not noticing how much pain he’d been in for the past five years. He was sorry for not noticing. He was devastated to realize it taken _so long_ for him to notice his baby brothers were in so much pain. And he wanted to tell him he can see it now. He can see it in Tim’s blasé attitude trying to act as if he doesn’t care Jason doesn’t want a soulmate, that he doesn’t care Bruce thinks they should be apart, that he doesn’t care about this conversation.

He wants to tell him he only wants to protect them and care for them. And he wants to hug Tim and hold him so close to his chest and beg him to forgive him for not noticing sooner all the pain. He just wants Tim to be happy. He doesn’t believe Tim would ever be happy with Jason. Even if they’re soulmates. And if that means he’s a hypocritical asshole then so be it, he wants to tell him he doesn’t fucking care because all he wants is for Tim to be fucking happy.

Those thoughts swirl around Dick’s head and get stuck in his throat because he knows he couldn’t exactly say that to Tim.

Tim would just flip him off and push him away and Dick couldn’t deal with Tim pushing him away. Not again. Not when Dick had spent the last couple of days working over himself about how he needs his baby brother to be happy and he wanted to be there to see it, to help him. So he bit his lips and tried to think about what he could say to him. And his mind was blank.

So he started stammering half-baked sentences to him to fill the silence, “That… was just the surprise talking Tim, you gotta know that’s not…” he tried and failed to organize his thoughts “It’s not that I think Jason’s not… or that you… I’m not sure you’re right for each other, Tim. I don’t mean it as a ‘you deserve better’ bullshit because you both deserve the best and you both are amazing, but… There’s just _too much_ between you two… I… How can you two workaround…" before he could stop himself his eyes traveled down to the white scar on Tim's throat and he felt his own throat close up at that and Tim's hand darted up to it. 

Anger seemed to leave Tim’s body as he sighed before he answered him, “I don’t even know if there’s anything to work around, Dick,” Tim said, “We all know how he feels about soulmates, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d just been acting because of the shock; but even if he does want to try something… We’re going to have to fix it ourselves, D. This is hard enough without having to deal with you and Bruce breathing down our necks.”

If he had any doubts he didn't have a chance in hell of changing Tim's mind about anything, the simmering hope he could see in Tim's eyes at the idea of Jason _wanting to try something_ was enough for Dick to realize he was fighting a losing battle. Tim wanted this. He wanted his soulmate by his side. Even if that soulmate was Jason…

Probably _because_ his soulmate was Jason.

Dick had to swallow the reply that was burning his tongue about how they would probably hurt themselves. He had to swallow his doubts and his fears.

Alfie was right, they deserved happiness and they deserved to have him on their side, not standing in the middle.

_God, is this the right call? Should he really not burden Tim with his doubts?_

Tim would want to have all the information, all the opinions available to him to make any decision. But he would also like Dick not to be a _fucking_ _dick_ about this either.

He remembered Bruce's offhand comment about the dangers of his and Barbara's relationship ages ago. He'd ended up being right, they were too invested in their own personal missions and it had taken a heavy toll on their relationship, but then, whenever he had to cut his time with Babs short because of an emergency, sometimes a tiny voice part of his mind went back to Bruce's warning. And then, when it was Babs who called off a date he sometimes heard that same warning… and a small part of his mind still thinks that maybe, just maybe, Bruce tells him _that,_ had weighed too heavy on his mind and had made everything just more complicated than it had to be.

Of course, he’s never gone as far as to blame Bruce for his relationship shortcomings, that’s entirely on himself. But maybe… just maybe, he shouldn’t put that kind of pressure on is baby brothers. Maybe he should just stay quiet and be there for his brothers. Maybe he should be a silent observer and only act if he actually notices something is wrong.

 _Plus, Tim’s right… It might come to nothing._ Dick tried to convince himself that what he’d felt just now wasn’t hope that it would actually come to nothing. That would be unfair to both Tim and Jason.

He looked at Tim, who was staring back at him, looking as if he was trying to dissect his mind, and actually probably being quite successful in doing so, Dick had been laughably unsuccessfully in hiding stuff from Tim before… fake deaths and mission intel notwithstanding.

Tim remained laser-focused on him for a couple of seconds and Dick felt the heaviness of the silence crash all around his body. He couldn't… He couldn't crush Tim's chance with his soulmate. It wasn't fair. He could see it…

So, he decided to try. Try and be supportive, try and be the big brother he was supposed to be. “Would you like him to- to change his mind about soulmates?” he asked offhandedly, offering Tim an olive branch before the conversation turned into a minefield.

Tim’s inquisitive stare subsided a little and he tilted his head letting a tiny tug of his lips show on his face, “Do you really want to have this conversation?” he asked and Dick huffed in fake annoyance.

“I _am_ trying, Tim…” he whined not bothering to hide the fact that the line of questioning would no doubt make him more than a little uncomfortable.

Tim’s tugged lips slowly morphed into a real smile, “You don’t actually have to…” he replied gesturing around them and Dick understood him shrugging. _I want to… I want to be a part of this…_ “I’m serious, D. Just don’t- Let us work it out…,” he finished, and Dick was keenly aware Tim was avoiding the question and still managing to answer it clearly.

He did.

He wanted Jason.

He didn't want to admit it to Dick, probably in some stupid attempt at convincing himself if he didn't say it out loud, maybe a possible rejection wouldn't hurt as bad.

Or at least that’s what Dick would be trying to do. What he did whenever someone talked about him and Babs. Just put a strong façade and hope over time it becomes real.

Thinking about it made Dick frown because an idea started to take hold in his mind. "Why didn't you tell me, though?" he asked looking at him. He'd been putting a façade with Babs, Jason was probably putting on a façade about not caring about soulmates… And Tim… For as long as he can remember, Tim's acting like a markless man… "You know a lot of this could've been avoided if you'd told me… If you told Jason…" It was true enough. If Jason had known beforehand, he wouldn’t have been shaken out, and maybe the confrontation with Bruce wouldn’t have happened. At least not the way it did…

 _‘Everyone thinks my mark is a shitty puzzle with an obvious answer’_ That’s what Jason had said. He’d been hurt by being kept in the dark, so why…?

“There wasn’t really a reason to say anything, Dick. Look, it’s not like I knew who it was at first. The mark just showed up one night in the middle of a mission. Bart saw it when we were showering, even before I noticed it. I knew you’d be unbearable if you knew I had a mateless mark, so I kept it hidden,” Tim said, and he was about to protest, but Tim talked over him, “And then, well… Then, Jason showed up and I couldn’t act upon it. I mean he was _Red Hood_ … and then it became too fucking complicated.”

“But you told Bruce,” he complained and as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized it was actually a valid complain so he droned a little harder, a little more indignant, “You told Bruce and not _me_!” _That_ was really not fair. He was supposed to be the kind of person you go to about soulmates. Roy, Donna, Wally, Cass, Rachel, Gar… Even _Clark_ had once shown up once wanting to talk to him about some human aspects of soulmarks he didn't feel comfortable talking about with Ma and Pa Kent. True, it had been awkward as hell, but he'd come… and yet, his _own brother_ …

Still, Tim frowned looking attacked.

“I did _not_ tell Bruce," he answered defensively as if the idea was risible and he should feel bad just thinking about it, which confused Dick a lot more. 

"Wha- how did he found out, then?" he asked Tim. If Tim didn't tell him and if Jason obviously didn't know, then…?

"He probably matches it up in the Soulmark Database," Tim offered with a shrug as he picked up the tablet again after it beeped. It was obviously an offhanded comment as if it was an obvious answer.

As if Dick knew what _the hell he was talking about_.

“What?” Dick asked slowly, looking at Tim and trying to wrap his head… “He has a _database of_ _soulmarks_?" That can't be right. Dick would know about something like that. Dick would certainly have heard if Bruce had suddenly decided to start collecting and matching _soulmarks._

Actually, no, scratch that.

Because for Dick to _know_ about that, Bruce would have to actually _have a database of soulmarks_. He would have to have decided to start collecting and matching soulmarks.

_He wouldn’t…_

"Of course he does," Tim said as if it was an obvious piece of information and Dick was about to tell him that no, it wasn't. Gathering information about people soulmarks isn't something people just do. Even people with a skewed perspective on personal information, privacy and rule of law as Bruce… as all vigilantes…

There was no way…

Soulmarks are as personal, private and _intimate_ as anything could get. Even with doctors, people tend to keep soulmarks covered or out of sight. Fuck, people are more than comfortable posting dickpics in social media, but ‘soulmark-pics’ were just _NOT a thing._ Markshaming and revenge soul-sharing are felonies. Revenge soul-sharing was a _second-degree_ felony. Nearly as bad as a sex crime. As in 5-to-10 in Blackgate, _right off the gate._

_There is no way…_

Tim must have seen the doubts in his face because he left the tablet again and sat with his back straight, looking at him as if he wasn’t understanding why this seemed _awful_ to him. “Dick, soulmarks are unique identifiers, visible to the naked eye. They allow you to narrow an individual to _one in two people_ _in the world_. That’s a _two in seven billion_ chance of correct identification… Do you know how _valuable_ that is as a detective tool?”

_What the fuck is he talking about?_

“It’s a _soulmark!_ A _person’s **soulmark**!_” Who cares about positive identification? That is a person’s representation of their most intimate bond, it shouldn’t… it shouldn’t be used to… “Who does he even have there?” he asked trying to wrap his mind on the scope of Bruce’s blatant disregard for personal intimacy.

“Uhm- _Everyone?_ ” Tim rose an eyebrow as if the answer was obvious.

_Everyone…_

So he probably has him there. Bruce somehow, somewhere, got a picture of his chest, cropped his soulmark and has it in a database filed under his name and paired with Babs… He has a picture of _Babs_ ’ chest filed under her name. Dick felt his veins flare up.

"That is beyond an invasion of privacy… that is…" he got up and started pacing around the room. This was beyond anything he'd heard before. Not even the fucking NSA was this mad.

“You’re overreacting,” Tim said and Dick begged to differ. Actually, if anything Tim is underreacting. He’s severely underreacting. As if he’d actually agreed with Batman. As if he’d helped with this madness…

“Overreacting? You know what people would say if they found out about _this_ , right?” he asked rhetorically. Public opinion would flip on Batman so fucking fast not even Superman would be able to resist the whiplash. Hundreds, possibly thousands of soulmarks collected unlawfully and non-consensually by a private individual, who uses it to conduct vigilantism. “God, Tim. Not even the most overzealous law enforcement agency would _dare_ … My God, this **_is_** _1984_!” he said remembering Orwell’s book, “This is the fucking definition of _Orwellian!_ ”

Filing soulmarks into databases used by a massive organization to manipulate people _._ That was actually one of the main tools used in a fucking dystopian book about overreaching organizations hell bent in controlling the people.

Bruce was fucking crossing into _dystopian bad guy_ behavior.

“It’s not that bad,” Tim said rolling his eyes with a tentative smile on his lips, “It’s not as if he’s actually _soulwinding_ , he’s simply filing marks for identification purposes.”

 _Soulwinidng,_ yes! That’s how the book called it!

Forcing people to bend to compliance with the Big Brother by twisting the meanings and bonds with their soulmates. He remembers the chill in his spine when he first read about it in the book. It was a nightmare, to have something as pure as a soulmate so distorted and turned into brainwashing and torture. Yeah, maybe Bruce didn't have a Room 101. He had to hope he wasn't actually manipulating people with that info. But, _soulwinding_ had to have started with the collection of information about people’s soulmates. It had to have started with a soulmate database.

And Tim already said Bruce didn't just use it for identification.

“You just said he probably knew about you two because he ‘ _matched us in the database’,_ so he _is_ using it to match people. He’s not bribing and coercing people into compliance with it, but that _does not_ make it less creepy,” Dick sentenced from the door before walking back to the bed, “I cannot believe he actually has something like this.”

Tim hummed and shrugged, but fortunately, he looked a little less _sure of himself_. At least he looked like maybe he was doubting that it was Ok. Good, because it wasn’t. It fucking wasn’t.

"You realize your soulmate probably had an input in design it, right?" Tim muttered and Dick growled at him about that. He was, of course, right. Babs had to know about it, otherwise, she would have erased it on one of his updates to the Batcomputer. He'd have to talk to her, probably guilt-trip her a little into not having soulmarks used as an investigative tool.

Still, knowing she was in it gave him a mixed feeling, on one hand, it was a complete violation of privacy and intimacy and Dick just _knew_ this will be the next big fight between him and Bruce (and probably Babs as well); on the other hand, he trusted Babs not to ever let it go as far as Bruce (or Tim, probably) would take it. He trusted her to have some sort of insurance in place so the database could not be turned into a weapon.

So, he decided to file the information for later use and decided to let the subject rest. After all, it's not like Tim could do something… actually, yes, he could be indignant and angry at it, but he was too much of a pragmatist about soulmates and soulmarks. He probably just measured privacy vs. security and called it a day, not even taking into consideration the sacred intimate nature of the bonds and the marks… Even if he also is one of the people who keep covering his mark. He has to. Otherwise, Dick would have seen it before. He's seen Tim completely naked before, they do share showers in the Cave…

_BTW… Where is it?_

He did a once over at Tim. Jason had his mark in his left wrist. Even if he’s only seen it once, the leather strip is a dead giveaway. He looked at Tim’s wrists as he, again, tapped at the Tablet. He currently had a mustard t-shirt with the Gotham Knights logo on it and his arms were bare. He couldn’t see any markings or tattoos or anything. Looking at him, Dick peeked at the tablet Tim seemed so focused on, and saw Red Hood’s status avatar flare up against Gotham’s map. Tim was probably conducting a city-wide search. Of Jason.

The image of Jason and Tim came to the forefront of his head again, and Dick felt the same pit in his stomach he’d gotten the first time he heard Jason talk about the two of them together, before the whole mess of soulmates… When he thought Jason and Tim were just fooling around with each other.

And It felt so _wrong_.

“You _know_ he _is_ technically our brother…" he blurted up before he had time to think better.

"No he's not," Tim replied and Dick actually managed to resist the groan before muttering a soft ‘Tim' that was only meant to convey a little bit of frustration at the fact that Tim seemed to want to challenge everything he was telling him. He was. Jason was not only legally their brother since Bruce had adopted all three of them, but he was also their _brother._

He lived with them, he played pranks with them. They’d had sleepovers and heart to hearts. They fought and joked and kick ass together. They were _family_.

“He’s just not,” Tim said bringing his knees up together to his chest and crossing his arms above them looking intently at Dick, and funny enough, that pose would normally look like a personal barrier, but with Tim’s gaze firmly planted in Dick, it felt as if he was _confiding_ in him, so he sat on the bed in front of him crossing his legs and facing Tim, “I know it’s hard for you to see it, probably because we’re both your _baby birds_ , but he’s never been that to me,” Tim said softly, and Dick was trying really hard not to let himself smile at the fact that Tim was finally deciding to open up, even if the subject made him a little queasy, “Jason was this awesome hero who was filling in _your_ shoes, going out and keeping Gotham _safe_ and he was so fucking _cool_. Then he was this cautionary tale and a bit of a hero crush for me. Someone I had to live up to, _somehow_. Then he was the crazy guy who tried to kill me, who happened to be my soulmate… And after that, he just was my soulmate, who I thought didn't want me. He's never been _my_ brother.”

Dick considered Tim’s words for a second. And for a second he felt his veins grow cold thinking his family didn’t felt the same love for him as he did for them. He swatted that thought away and tried to put himself in Tim’s shoes. It was kind of true that Tim hadn’t really had had contact with Jason before his death. He’d showed up with so much knowledge of their past and he fit so easily into the family dynamics it was kind of hard to remind himself he and Jason’s first real interaction had been…

The battle at Titans Tower. That had been Tim’s first real interaction with Jason. And he’d already been his soulmate by then.

“I- I hadn’t thought about it like that” Dick conceded “You know when he first- When I first got together with him, our first _real_ brotherly get-together… he wanted to get matching tattoos…” he remembered the night really well. Bruce was out doing JL stuff and Patrol ended up really quickly so they just were hanging out when he suggested it, “He said it would give Bruce a heart-attack and that should be reason enough to do it… ‘Come on, D, the old man would _flip_ ’-” he said with a smile and a very bad kid Jason impression.

“Hearing that… I hadn’t thought of him- He was Robin, you know? Bruce’s new kid. And Bruce was my _guardian_ , he never wanted… he always respected my mom and dad and he… But when Jason said that, when he talked about Bruce as ‘ _the old man’,_ I realized- It dawned to me, I actually had a baby brother… And it was, so fucking terrifying and amazing and I swear I think Babs and Wally wanted to hit me over the head to stop talking about it, because I couldn’t get it out of my head…” he let out a laugh and looked at Tim who had a soft smile on his face, probably picturing the scenes in his head.

"Same with you, you know?" Dick enjoyed the light blush in Tim's cheeks and he risked moving up and ruffling his hair, "Since you showed up on my door demanding I became Robin again and showing me a fuckload of photos… Jesus, Tim… I almost lost it right there. And then, you came in a suit twice your size to save us from Two-Face… I knew from that moment. Sure, I fought with Bruce about it, I mean, Jason had- But unlike him, I realized you had to be my baby bird from the beginning… I had to be a big brother. I-"

They were his brothers. Jason and Tim. And Damian and Cass and Steph and Duke. They were his baby brothers and sisters. He had similar stories for each one of them. Moments where they burrowed so deep in his heart he adopted them as his siblings. And now Tim was making a point that maybe… “Maybe you’re right, maybe I’m just seeing a relationship that isn’t there-” he said feeling the cold settle in his bones. If he has to reevaluate his family composition he’s _really_ going to need Babs…

"No! It is…" Tim said and he moved up to touch his knee, "You're our brother, D." Suddenly, he remembered Tim looking barely alive after being tossed off a window by a murderous Ra's. He'd said the same thing. And, just as it had that time, those words covered him like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. "It's just… I just mean it to Jason and I… we're not- Pretty much like Steph, back in the day, you know? She's kind of like a sister too, but I still dated her," Tim tried, but Dick shook his head. Steph was different. Steph had pretty much came into the family as Tim's fellow vigilante turned friend, turned girlfriend.

“Yeah, but, no. It’s different, she came into the family as a sister-in-law… she just graduated into full sisterhood,” he sentenced.

Tim still smiled at him, “Tell that to Cass.”

Dick actually groaned at that “Oh, _God_ you’re right…” he hadn’t thought about it. Even when they first started dating, he hadn’t had such a problem with the two of them as he was having with Tim and Jason. “Yeah, no. Sorry Steph, but she’ll remain a sister-in-law, a very close one…” he tried. Tim laughed at him.

"Or, maybe we're just incestuous," he offered, and Dick huffed at him but then Tim's smile became a weird grin and he leaned towards him with a tilted head and put a hand softly in his knee. His face was starting to take a weird tint and Dick's brain picked up certain clues that…

“Why not? Maybe we are, don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it, D,” Tim said and there was something weird with his voice and Dick was about to point it out when his head registered the fact that Tim’s hand hadn’t stayed on his knee, and instead it was traveling upwards, caressing his thigh- his-

Dick’s muscles turned to lead and he looked up to see Tim’s weird smile and his weird voice and… Oh God is he? _Is he licking his lips?_ When Tim’s hands brushed against his inner- _inner_ thigh, Dick’s muscles finally reacted and he jumped away with a start.

_What the-_

“ _What the hell?_ ” he screeched. _Tim was not… he could not be-_

Nope. This was not happening. Something had to have taken over Tim. It… _Maybe Ivy?_ _Or was this some sort of long term con? Was he pranking him? Was he-_

He was laughing. Tim's whole body started to shake and his hand moved to his mouth. Dick stood there for a second, frozen before his body reacted that Tim was laughing. 

He was playing him.

_The little perverted-_

“ _Timothy Drake-Wayne_ ,” he said using his sternest voice and it caused Tim to lose control and openly laugh at him, barely taking enough air to inform him of how ‘ _funny’_ it was that he’d ‘ _frozen’._ "Don't even joke about that," Dick screeched, not even caring his voice was a couple of octaves higher than usual and still feeling the ghost of Tim's touch on his leg and the flush in his own face.

“I’m… You just… _Ugh, Tim!_ I’m _bleaching my eyes_. I need to scrub every pore in my body and- Stop laughing, Tim, this is _Not. Funny._ ” he complained still feeling queasy, “I need to _unsee_ that, right now…" he whined. His baby brother doing… that… 

 _Flirting_ with him… _Touching_ him…

“I’m just joking, D,” Tim said, finally getting his laughter in control, “You’re the family’s big brother, I don’t think anyone sees you in a sexual way.”

_Well, they better not._

The ghost of Tim's hand stayed with him for a couple of seconds and he had to send Tim another glare, before letting his eyes wander over the bedroom, trying very hard not to let himself be unsettled by Tim's laughter. Luckily it had died down and a beep on the tablet occupied his _baby brother_ once again…

They stayed there, Tim typing stuff on his Tablet and Dick keeping him company in silence trying not to let his mind wander over the fact that his brother actually could flirt… _Nope. No. Not going there._

He looked around the room desperately looking for anything to occupy his mind, and actually registering he was starting to get comfortable in the silence that had taken over their conversation. He felt a weird sense of confidence that he was making the right choice letting Tim and Jason work it out and not burden them. Going over certain points of the conversation, Dick realized he hadn’t exactly set himself with expectations, but this had been really civil.

He still had several questions about how to handle everything. Mostly, he was still unsure about what he was supposed to do now. Sure, he wasn't getting in the way of whatever Jason and Tim decided and… And maybe he should probably get accustomed to the idea that those two might…

The idea of going over to Babs was getting more and more appealing by the second. He hadn’t visited her for over three days and his mark was starting to bother him. Maybe he could drive there and spend the night in Gotham.

It would probably be nice. And he can get another perspective on the pair. And maybe he can use that time to actually try and rebuild some bridges with Babs. That would be even better.

Their relationship had managed to stabilize a lot since he'd decided to make Gotham center of operations again, but they still had a lot to work over and maybe this could give them a little push towards a more… _more._ But he wouldn’t push it. He knew better now. They’ll work their own rhythm and try to find common ground and grow stronger together. He knew they could. He trusted their bond.

Thinking about making Gotham home, made his mind jump over to Titans Tower. Tim’s second home. And that brought about another worrying thought to the forefront of his mind. “Hey Tim,” he called drawing Tim’s eyes from the tablet with a raised eyebrow, “What’s gonna happen with Kon?”

Tim seemed surprised for a second before he waved him off, “Kon and I have never been anything,” he replied. Dick studied his face for a second and pushed himself off the mattress with his elbows when he saw Tim was actually being honest.

“Wait, _really_?" He could have sworn those two had been dating for the past couple of months. He's pretty sure Tim actually mentioned something about it a couple of weeks ago…

Tim didn’t seem to take his confusion kindly as he dropped his Tablet on the mattress with a sigh, “ _Yes,_ _really!_ ” he said a bit desperately, “He’s with _Cassie_ , he was with her before he died, he has been with her since he returned from the dead,” he said pointing to a side of his room where he had a framed picture of the four initial members of Young Justice. “Why is everyone so fixated on the two of us being _something_?” Tim finished with a low sigh that was probably meant as a rhetorical question about something he wasn’t probably in the know.

Still, Dick gave it a thought and answered him, “I don’t know… It kind of works, you know? And the two of you act… close.” It was true enough. Tim and Kon had this _thing_ , where you expected to see one with the other all the time. Plus, Dick’s seen them have entire conversations with gazes and body-language. Not to mention the fact that Kon is one of maybe three people outside the family Tim’s actually tactile with. Even with the family, Tim’s not the kind of person to hug or rest their body against someone. But Dick’s seen Tim hug Kon, he’s seen him rough him up over a videogame, and he’s seen him actually fall asleep on top of Kon.

“Of course we do! He’s my _best friend!_ " Tim yelled annoyed, before pointing an accusing finger at him. "You act close to Wally, are you two fucking on the side?"

Dick actually smiled at that. _Wrong example, baby bird,_ “Not for lack of interest,” he said wiggling his eyebrows before sighing theatrically, “Unfortunately, Wally is _painfully_ straight and I am thankfully taken,” Tim huffed and Dick decided to let it go, “But, yeah, I see your point.”

And truly, he did.

As soon as Tim mentioned Wally, his mind conjured images of Tim’s _other_ best friend, a friend he was also really tactile with. And all the things he’d just thought about Tim doing with Kon, he’d also seen him do with Bart. Actually, it was for more common seeing Tim with his arm hanging over Bart, and the two of them wrestling control of a controller all over Tim’s bedroom’s floor. Dick briefly wondered why it was that seeing that hadn’t made him thought Tim was actually dating Bart. Somehow, his interactions with Bart seemed more innocent, while with Kon it felt…

“We’re just friends, good- _great_ friends…” Tim said cutting off Dick’s train of thoughts. He remembered Tim’s little _flirting_ prank so he decided to mess with him a little.

“Just friends? You sure the two of you never…” he wiggled his eyebrows and made a _very obvious_ and slow hip movement that had Tim go beet red and he was about to press when Tim started spluttering,

“T- Uhm... That’s not relevant.” Dick felt a cackle build up his throat. _Just friends… Bullshit_ “That- Everyone gets curious, doesn’t mean… Nothing’s ever happened, nothing serious,” Tim finished completely red and refusing to meet his eyes. 

Dick took a little pity on his brother so he decided not to tease him, _yet_ “You see, reactions like _that_ make people ask questions,” Dick commented off-handedly and Tim took the lifeline and decided to huff indignantly.

“It shouldn’t! You know, just before I flew here, Bart told us we had this _sex thing_ going on, it…” he said crossing his arms, “You know how hard it was to fly from San Francisco to Gotham, being carried by Kon, while I had Bart’s comment in the back of my head all the time? He almost dropped me over Pennsylvania because our faces were _too close_ at one point,” Tim commented indignantly and Dick was back on the mattress trying really hard not to laugh.

“It’s _not funny!_ " Tim screeched indignantly, and Dick managed to control himself to nod at him half seriously, "It's _really not!_ My best friend thinks I'm crushing on him, or whatever, and it's making being alone with him really awkward," Tim complained and grumbled about a couple of things before going silent, again looking at the tablet. 

Dick was about to get lost in thought again but Tim’s frustrated groan made him turn to look at him. “I give up,” Tim yelled as he tossed Dick the Tablet. He grabbed it out of habit and looked at Jason’s face and a city map, “Do you know where he is?” Tim asked him.

“Nope, Roy wouldn’t let me get close,” he said remembering the redhead’s words. Tim groaned again.

“You think Babs knows?” he asked, “You think she’ll tell me?”

Dick hummed considering it for a second. It wasn’t such a long stretch to expect her to know or be able to hack a way of figuring it, “Probably…” he said “I was thinking about heading there…” he said pointing at the door; maybe Tim will want to trail along and get some intel on Jason. Maybe he can eavesdrop and also get a location on Jason to finally check how he was doing.

Tim shook his head “Nah, I’m going to the Bowery first,” he said tapping and checking a new set of pictures in the Tablet, “there’s something I wanna check first…” Tim muttered. Dick moved around to check the images, they were a collection of images of warehouses and surveillance shots by the piers.

He felt a cold shiver in his spine remembering Roy’s words ‘ _He went crazy on some slave mongers, he beat them to death in a warehouse out by the piers._ ’ Jason’s relapse into the Pit Rage had been in the back of his mind for the last two hours. He’d wanted to check on it yesterday night, but he’d decided he was too compromised for patrol. He thought it should be good to check it out tonight.

Gotham’s been really calm for the past couple days. It was the opposite of what normally happened, where personal drama usually overlapped with crazy villainous plots and they had to just bulldoze over their feelings to get the Mission first.

Apparently, and this was Commissioner Gordon’s conjecture, having the Bats going hard against Maroni had sent most gangs into hibernation, not wanting to get caught in the crossfires. Well, Dick’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Gotham’s calmed, so he can take it easier and take some time off patrol to check Jason’s slip and see what to make out of it. They couldn’t keep it from Bruce. But he might be able to get some running start into the investigation and he might actually be able to get some insight into Jason’s mental state.

Or he could if he was taking point in the investigation. But it seems like Tim might have beat him to it. "You know about the warehouse by the piers?" he asked confused as to where Tim might have heard about it.

But then Tim turned, frowning “What?” he asked and Dick looked back to the tablet and noticed that the images were simply security cameras running facial recognition by the pier. Not _surveillance_ of the pier.

_Well, shit._

“Nothing,” he said sounding unconvincing and Tim was starting to look at him quizzically so he moved around the room and started folding some of Tim’s t-shirts, as he invented some bullshit story about counterfeit drugs coming in through the ports and ending in Blüd. It wasn’t the _worst_ lie, but it wasn’t the _smoothest_ either. So he knew Tim would be likely to keep pressing him.

Fortunately, lady luck was shining on him.

He picked up the fourth, maybe the fifth shirt from under the bed and it ended up being a black shirt with an S shield stamped on the front.

_Oh, Timmy…_

"Not relevant, huh?" he asked wiggling his eyebrows as Tim shot from the bed, ripped the shirt from his hands and tossed it in the laundry bin muttering about Kon being messy and forgetful, Dick rose an eyebrow and hummed unconvinced. He let Tim be lulled into a safe silence for a good half a minute before deadpanning, "So, always wondered, do Kryptonians get freaky in bed?" he asked Tim, enjoying the way he went red and his feet tripped over nothing.

“I _wouldn’t_ **_know_** ,” Tim muttered under his breath and Dick smiled enjoying himself.

“I bet they do, it’s always the boy scouts...” he commented with a fake blasé accent, picking another shirt from under the bed… _just how many does he have there?_. He buried the thought and grinned as another question popped on his mind, from the mental repertoire he'd gathered after months of believing his baby brother was dating a Kryptonian. "Is it big? Cause he's built like a bull, I imagine he's also…" he made a gesture around his groin and Tim groaned.

“This is payback for the incest thing isn’t it?” Tim asked and Dick just smiled at him.

This was going to be fun.

-_-_-_-_-_-

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted as he walked into the Clocktower. Babs had agreed to let him come suit up and control his patrol from here instead of the Cave without many questions.

“Hey! You’re unharmed, that’s good,” she said from deep within the complex and Dick walked in and rose an eyebrow as soon as he saw her. She was sitting in her chair looking at an array of computers that were just pointing the normal charts and images of a Gotham late evening. She just smiled and hit him in the arm as both a hello and a reply, “Well, you asked to come here, not the Cave, and Roy didn’t sound happy when he called…” she ended that with a hum as if she’d actually expected Roy to hurt him.

Roy, who he hadn’t even mentioned as he came here… It dawned on him pretty quickly, “ _You_ were the reason Roy found me so easily,” he said looking hurt at his soulmate with his best puppy eyes, earning himself a roll of eyes from Babs and a small smile.

“Of course, babe,” she said nonchalantly, “You needed someone to set you straight, I thought I would give Roy a shot before going down there myself.”

That surprised Dick, “You would have?” he asked.

If he would have thought someone in the family who didn't have an interest in Jason's and Tim's relationship, or who would have shared his uneasiness at the idea of his two baby brothers were soulmates it was _Babs_. Well, Bruce and Babs. But she not only didn’t seem all that bothered by it, she actually huffed at the idea that he doubted her investment on their relationship.

“Jason was _finally_ about to act on Tim,” she said looking frustrated, “You know how long I’ve been sitting here, looking at those two dancing around each other? _Months._ I’ve been angsting over those two for months, Dick! And that was before knowing Jason was somehow on the dark about this. Honestly… He’s been acting like a crushing teenager for too long, I was _sure_ he knew and that it was Tim who needed a little push. But, no. Of course, they had to go and make it all complicated by being a pair of blind idiots."

Dick looked at Babs and let her rant wash over him, getting the tidbits of information he could process. So Babs had also noticed something about Jason and Tim. Something about the way they acted around each other.

He remembered Roy’s bombshell yesterday, “Roy said something like that… About Jason _crushing…_ ” he said trying to recall anything in their last interactions that would have given him an indication and came up blank. He’d been spending the last twenty minutes of his stay at the Manor teasing Tim mercilessly about Kon, because he’d actually thought Tim and Kon were an item so he had a lot of material saved in his mind for flustering and generally just annoy Tim; but he’d somehow managed to miss Tim or Jason acting like _crushing teenagers._

“I didn’t see it,” he recognized out loud resting his hips on Babs’ desk.

His soulmate looked at him and smiled softly, "You didn't know what to look for, plus, you thought Tim was being honest about being markless," she said turning around and updating a file in the computer. She’d always been good at multitasking, but Dick needed her right now focused on him, helping him try to settle in the new state of affairs that involved being ok with his baby brothers dating one another, even though he thought it was the _wrong_ idea.

So he placed his hand in her wheelchair and nudged her to turn and look at him, "Why would he lie?" he asked the question burning in his mind. It was getting repetitive, but all he could think about was that Tim hadn't trusted him enough to tell him. He hadn't trusted him way back from the beginning of their relationship.

He could deal with Tim not trusting him after the whole Robin/Red Robin fiasco or the suggestion that he went to the psychiatrist in Metropolis. But this was before all that. This was… It had to have been back when he was in Mount Justice… or at the latest, at the start of his run in Teen Titans, after Lilith… and Donna…

As painful as those years were, they were the years he and Tim were closest…

“We’re actually having this conversation right now aren’t we?” Babs said sighing and finally giving in to his nudges. He nodded and looked at her eyes. Those eyes always had the ability to calm him, to center him and allow him to focus. She tugged a couple of strands of her hair behind her ears as she settled and looked at him.

“I’ve actually been thinking about it… Since Jason told me he’d been in the dark, and honestly, I couldn’t really find an answer… But then, I also… I mean Dick, why _wouldn’t he_ hide it? What good would it do to have this in the open? His would-be murderer turned anti-hero, turned fellow vigilante… There was no real good time for him to drop this bomb. Well, he could've said it in these last couple months, but, then again… he thought Jason didn't want him…"

Babs was making exactly the same argument Tim had back at the Manor, and back then, Dick had been too wrapped up in the conversation to actually have a comeback ready, but now, after having some time to process it, he actually had an answer to that; the same thing he should've told Tim: "We could have been there for him."

They could have. Tim didn't have to deal with everything just by himself. He should've known to rely on _his family_.

But Babs scoffed at him as soon as he suggested it, “Yeah, like you and Bruce _just_ _did_?” she asked rhetorically and Dick felt his face heat up and whined at her. It wasn’t the same. This time he’d been surprised, but if Tim had told him-

Babs didn't let him finish that thought, as she shook her head at him. "You know, if he'd been open about it, I think you and Bruce actually might have been able to convince him to stay away from him, even if he drove himself catatonic," she said and Dick actually huffed indignantly and stood up looking at Babs feeling his chest constrict at that accusation.

“I _would never_ -” he tried to tell her in his sternest voice but Babs simply rolled her eyes,

"Really? Can you tell me that back then, when Jason was killing everyone, you wouldn't have agreed with Bruce about putting Jason on Arkham? Even if Tim got HICD because of it? That you wouldn't have fought the idea of Jay joining the Bats and living with Tim in the house if you had known the person he’d been trying to kill was his soulmate? That you would have believed he just somehow _didn't know_?”

He wanted to yell at her that he _wouldn’t…_ He would never subject Tim or Jason to that kind of pain… And his soulmate should know better than to suggest such a thing…

Except…

Except that he would. As soon as she started describing it, he imagined his reaction to knowing his baby brother had been bonded to the man that had beat the shit out of him. He imagined himself seeing the bodies pile up in Jason’s quest for vengeance and thinking his baby brother was bonded to _him…_

He would have agreed to send Jason to Arkham if he’d known… Not even a day ago he’d told Roy as much…

He remembered the pain and the disillusion and the anger he felt when Jason showed up in New York dressed as Nightwing, killing people… What would he have done, if he’d known that man had tried and almost succeeded in killing his soulmate? Would he have still believed his brother could have been saved?

 _No._ He wanted to say yes. He could try to mentally block himself to the truth and say he would’ve seen the good in Jason, but the truth is he couldn’t. Not if he’d known…

“If anything, it’s kind of good that Tim didn’t tell anyone, at least now they have a shot at this,” Babs said softly, putting her hand in his knee, trying to pry him out of his own mental divagation and he thanked her for that with a squeeze of her hand.

_Now they have a shot…_

“You think they do?” he asked shaking the _what-ifs_ from his mind and focusing on what really actually happened. “Do you- Do you think they’ll be happy?”

Babs hummed and tapped her chair's armrest. It was a common tic she had, whenever she was caught in mental calculations. Dick liked to think of her moving an imaginary abacus in her mind as she weighed alternatives. It wasn't an odd sight, but it was troubling enough for Dick that she couldn't answer that right off the bat.

No one had been able to.

Tim had deflected and tried to stand his ground on the uncertainty of their relationship. He wasn't sure it could work, so it wasn't worth assessing the results from a hypothetical.

Alfred had basically shrugged it off as unimportant. Supporting Tim and Jason’s possibility of happiness was more important than measuring the likelihood of the outcome. Same thing for Roy, though he was more focused on Jason than on Tim.

Damian remained a mystery, but he’d started to consider the possibility of Jon being the real architect of his sudden support for Tim’s relationship.

Still, no one could tell him ‘ _Yeah, of course, they'll be happy, you see the two of them… yadda, yadda, yadda, so they’ll live happily ever after_ ’. Whatever… He’ll take whatever bullshit excuse to justify it. He just needed someone to tell him something he can get behind and stop worrying.

It seemed Babs wouldn’t either…

"I- I want to say yes… But honestly, I don't know about Tim," she said after a couple of seconds, focusing on an invisible point in the wall. "I think Jason could be happy with him if he forgives himself about what he did. If he lets Tim _in_ I think he’ll be…, I mean, I don’t know where he’ll end in the whole ‘ _soulmates are crazy’_ thing, but… if it is Tim he could work with it." Dick frowned at that last part, thinking about Jason sticking to his idea that he didn't want a soulmate. Yeah, Tim's been kind of working himself over it, but to Dick, it was more of a defense mechanism than a real possibility…

“What do you mean, _if it’s Tim_? Tim’s his soulmate, who else could it be?” he asked confused. Babs looked at him for a second and tilted her head lightly as she elaborated, still with her sight set on something far away from Dick, probably trying to digest everything and trying to set her emotions aside.

"Don't think it's that simple. Jason's a stubborn ass, he won't do a 180 in two weeks, even if it's just to keep his façade that he wants to be mateless. Although I think it's a little more complicated than that. We talked that night before you came with the Croc sighting, he was really confused about it, but I think it was more self-flagellation about the fact that he'd unwittingly hurt Tim than about his stance on soulmates. He might not change his mind about it," she finished actually muttering to herself that last part.

He hadn’t known Babs and Jason had talked before and he wanted to ask her about it. He only had had one impression of Jason’s reaction and it was yelling at Bruce. But, maybe she could tell him…

“Now, that’s Jay. Tim…” she sighed as if she was frustrated about something “Tim’s decided to internalize a lot of what he’s been going with him. I still don’t know how he’s been able to live with everything that’s happened to him without a break,” she said, “Bruce forced you to stay down for a while when everything was too much. I took some time down and reinvented myself after the clown. Jason went to the Outlaws. Steph took that year in Africa. Tim lost both his parents, faked an uncle, lost his girlfriend, his best friend, had to reinvent himself, had to take care of a company and was the international liaison of a massive operation… He nearly died what? Three or four times. He’s had no time to… _deal_ with everything. And that’s leaving out the whole soulmate thing. He-” Babs was obviously stressed by the end of her tirade and Dick found she’d managed to put into words the fears he’d felt about Tim hurting. Tim hurting and him not noticing.  “He probably dealt with his depression by himself too…”

“I- He had to didn’t he?” Dick mused out loud. He’d been _‘angsting’_ as well, but about Tim’s state. About Tim going through depression and him not noticing. “I was thinking about it earlier. This _had to_ mess him up, having his soulmate try to kill him… How did we not notice he was going through this, Babs?”

Dick was starting to get _that feeling_ again. That he wasn't being a good enough brother. That maybe he'd failed so horribly, he'd alienated Tim. When he'd come back from Chicago, he'd thought his relationship with Tim was as good as it’d ever been. Only to suddenly realize Tim had kept him at arm’s length not only since he’d screwed up the Robin mantle stuff, but from the beginning. Ever since they’d met.

“He’s never been open about himself,” Babs said, still looking lost in thought, replying almost automatically. But Dick couldn’t help to scoff at that. Sure, he could get the _'Tim's private_ ' argument for the soulmate stuff, but one thing was him not to noticing his brother hiding a soulmate, and another thing entirely was not noticing a pattern of depression; it would take a lot more than just Tim hiding his feelings for Dick not to realize it.

“I think he’s been trying to rationalize his feelings and he’s forcing himself just to keep going,” Babs said breaking him off his mental rant. Dick looked at her and noticed she’d finally decided to look at him. Probably already getting her emotions in control. _Good_ , he needs that because his feelings are all over the place. He needs her to be an anchor for him right now. “He probably doesn’t even realize how hurt he really is, you know? Compartmentalizing everything and never actually opening himself to be hurt…”

Still… He gets compartmentalizing how you feel about a child rapist when you’re chasing him in order to keep your head clear to catch him.

 But…

“But Babs… Even if it wasn’t HICD, this was still soulmate depression… He couldn’t- And even if he somehow _detached_ himself- Which is _not_ _good_ … We should have noticed. Babs, I-” He choked on his own tongue to try and tell her… It was grating on him… “I didn’t notice-”

He was a fucking trained police detective. He’d taken the Psych elective courses. He’d aced his Criminal Psych, Behavior and Counseling courses. For Christ’s sake, he’d been just gotten a recommendation for FBI training because he was _that fucking good_ at it. He would have to get a bachelor’s to even thinking about applying but… that’s not the point.

He was _good_ at detecting this kind of things. He may not be on Bruce’s or Tim’s level when it comes to traditional detective stuff, but he’s better than them on reading emotional cues from people. That’s what he’s supposed to be _good_ at. That and acrobatics.

And yet… His brother might have been depressed, he might even have a major mental disorder, and he’s just noticing…

Hell, he’s not even _noticing the_ _depression_ , he’s _inferring it_ because of the situation Tim’s in. He’s not thinking: ‘ _he’s behaving this and that way, and that behavior is typical of soulmate depression._ ' No. That would be understandable, instead, he's thinking: ‘ _his fucking soulmate tried to kill him, so he might have had – and still have, soulmate depression, even if he’s acting like he’s not…_ ’

Even if nothing in his conduct so far had led him to even consider the fact that he is been fucking depressed. And what? The answer was supposed to be Tim’s good at compartmentalizing?

Nah. Fuck that rationalization. He’s a shitty horrible brother. He’s been neglecting his baby brother so much he’s failed to notice he was down a path of HICD.

That’s a more believable reason. That’s the only reason.

He’s been so caught up in his own little mental story about how he’s this awesome traveling hero with a stable job and a happy family. He’d thought only his relationship with Babs was taking the heavy blunts from his two jobs and the constant traveling, but his family relationships had also been hurt.

He'd thought he'd learned his lesson after Jason had died. That he could notice when one of his brothers was hiding pain and distrust from him. That he could be a close sibling to them and then they would come to him with their woes and problems instead of dealing with them on their own and end up tied to an exploding warehouse.

But no. He hadn’t… He’d kid himself into believing he’d managed that but Tim… Even Tim, who’d come _right after Jason_ , hadn’t felt comfortable enough to tell him he had a soulmark. He hadn’t told him his soulmate had tried to kill him. He hadn’t told him his soulmate was living with him and acting as if he hated him. He hadn’t told him anything.

And Dick hadn’t noticed. He’d even believed they were _close_.

_What a joke…_

“Hey, stop that,” Babs placed her hand on Dick’s cheek and he leaned on the feeling looking at her and raising an eyebrow, his earlier thoughts cut but the feeling of emptiness still present in his bones. He tried to clear his face to stop Babs form worrying but she shook her head and moved both her hands to his face, pressing firmly on his temples in a circular motion, “Whatever’s making you frown and get dark like that… Stop it. This isn’t on you.”

“I should’ve-” Dick tried to shake his head as he started to explain to her why part of this was actually on him, but Babs cut him before he even got two words in.

"Nothing," she said sternly, pressing a little harder on his temples, before stretching on her chair to place a gentle kiss on his nose. He lowered himself and joined their foreheads closing is eyes and enjoying as Babs' hands moved from his face to his hair, scratching his scalp, he let a sigh he didn't know he was holding. Babs kept talking in a soft whisper, "There's no use in thinking about should've-s, Dick. We would stay here all night and it would only make us miserable. Think about what to do now, how to help your brother-" He frowned again a little confused, but she pressed on his temples again and he smiled clearing his face as she elaborated, "I don't think he's completely over it, I don't even think he's noticed he's suffering from it. Not the real extent."

He hummed as he thought about it and stood up, as Babs drag her hands slowly through his hair, necks, and arms, and finally, he caught them with his own and squeezed smiling at her. She was right… And he has to stop feeling the need to blame himself over everything. "How can we…?" he tried.

“I know I _just said_ that we should do something… but I don’t think we can do anything right now _,_ Dick,” She said softly and Dick groaned at her looking betrayed. He needed something to do… _nothing_ was never an option for him. "Look, Tim and Jason have to talk before we even think about anything else, preferably without any of us in the vicinity," she moved back and wheeled herself over to her computers pressing a couple of keys and refreshing most of the indicators in the screens, probably trying to ease her thinking. She'd always thought better as she was multitasking. It was a bit like him getting his better acrobatic performances as he was on stage rather than on the practice rug. He’d never got his quadruple somersault perfectly executed while he practiced, he only managed it seamlessly when the lights were on him… or when he needed to do it to keep himself alive. So, he didn’t feel annoyed that Babs started to work on her mission while they talked, she was probably just trying to focus better.

"They should let everything out in the open and hopefully give themselves a chance," she said after a couple of seconds, proving him right; so he moved closer to keep the conversation in a soft, intimate tone, "And hopefully, with the possibility of a soulmate by his side, Tim can take a break and actually figure himself out and how Jason fits into it. And vice versa too. Jason might have _something of a crush_ for Tim, but… he should know to jump ship if it is too much for him.”

Dick mulled over what Babs was telling him as he sat in the desk, and it was a testament of how deep in the conversation Babs was or how fucked up by it he looked, that she didn’t immediately bit his head off for doing so, instead letting him sit on it and sway his legs a little bit.

They could figure themselves out…

“You really think they can be good for each other,” he asked biting his lip. He liked the idea of Tim taking a breath

"You're the one that keeps saying how soulmates are made for one another," she answered looking at him expectantly, and he nodded sideways with half a shrug, it was true enough. An hour ago he was thinking to himself he was ok with being a hypocrite if it meant Tim and Jason were happy; so the idea of they being happy and him being right didn't bother him whatsoever… even if it meant he'd overreacted a lot… But he could live with that, he already was the family's drama queen, so… "At the very least, talking it over is bound to make them work out a way to live with their mark… even if it's not as a couple…" she finished and Dick hummed at that.

"That- That's not actually the worst outcome I can think of," he replied honestly. When the option was HICD, depression, isolation or Pit Rage, and an awkward pair of mismatched couples in the family suddenly wasn't bad.

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed with a sad smile and Dick moved forward to hug her feeling a lightness to his movement that he’d lost since knowing about Jason and Tim’s bond.

This is what he needed. Hope. Some small shred of light that would tell him there was hope for them to be happy. In the end, it had been his soulmate who'd given him that. Go figure… he'd been proven right already.

He got off the desk and moved in front of Babs, wheeling her back a little and startling her a little, before kneeling and burying his face in her chest, right where he knew her soulmark was. _His_ soulmark. He hummed feeling the soft warmth of his soulmate’s skin and breathing in her scent. He knew he shouldn’t push it, they might be in good ground and he _knows_ they love each other, but the wounds they inflicted on each other when they were _“dating”_ were still too fresh. Too raw.

So, even if he just wanted to sink into the feeling of _Barbara Gordon_ all around him and he was one second away of begging her to lead them to the bedroom and lose himself in that scent and warmth, he held his breath and move away. Her hands had found their way into his hair and cheek again he covered them with his own and kissed them softly.

In a last second of weakness, he moved fast and planted a small kissed on the edge of her lips and was rewarded with a soft humming and two short kisses on each of his lips, before Babs moved back and cleared her throat. He got up and took a deep breath trying to control his hormones and the beginnings of an erection.

He tried to swash that last thought away, trying to keep everything soft and romantic, so he smiled at Babs, she returned his smile and then shook her head and laughed a little, “You sly dog,” she said sounding amused and exasperated and Dick grinned openly at her, “I- We are having _that conversation_ , just- give me a little more time,” she promised.

Dick smiled knowing she meant every word. “All the time you need, love,” he said and moved to the side so she could take back her place at the console. _The conversation_ was an overdue talk they needed to have about the future of their relationship. Dick was pretty certain it would be a path to getting back together, without going back to the way _they were_.

For over three years, since they presented, Dick and Babs had been together, they’d been a couple and they were happy… or they were supposed to be. Dick’s pretty certain the good moments were _great_. But they also had bad moments, and as they kept going the lack of time together, the chaos of their lives and their own personal _missions_ meant the bad started to outweigh the good.

In what felt to him as an overnight development, he realized he wasn't sharing his life with his soulmate; only stolen moments in between missions, college, and work. And those moments were becoming few and far between. And they were becoming sour. Fighting and recriminations. Inability to communicate their own needs.

Dick had let enough time let by, that he could recognize to himself and to Babs that the only reason they’d managed to stay together for over three years was his own bull-headedness. His inability to recognize their relationship was hurting. His obstinacy in giving up his dream of what soulmates were and contrasting it with what they _had_.

Still, he believed their relationship could grow.

He believed they could heal and learn and still be together.

And Babs laughs and amusement right now, and the way she'd talked about _the conversation._ It gave him hope.

It proved him right.

Now he needed to be proven right about soulmates again by Jason and Tim.

He moved back as he thought about it and shared a couple of words with Babs about the mission and tonight's patrol. Gotham had been quiet so he thought he could take a longer than normal Patrol route.

“It’s been nice. Silent streets and a full-housed Arkham,” said Babs perfectly encapsulating the feeling they all had after Croc’s re-imprisonment. Maybe they should make a commitment about falling hard on one of the crime families once a month or something if only to get a couple of days calm.

-_-_-_-_-

He’d just finished fitting his costume after realizing he was late for patrol and was walking back to Babs’ command center where she was looking at a screen frowning hard. Dick was thinking about going there and doing the temple thing to her when she spoke, stopping him in his track. “I found Deadshot.”

“ _What_?” He took a second to process that information and then he all but ran at her to stare at the computer screen. There were two still images from security cameras in one screen and a picture of Lawton in another and there was a big green stamp mark that read _86% Match_ in the middle of both screens.

_Holy Fuck._

He looked at the screen with Lawton’s security cameras and saw the maps at the edge. In the middle of the Bowery. He mentally traveled to the address. It was a warehouse complex. A mafia warehouse complex.

"Where's everyone?" he asked knowing this took precedence over any particular errands. "Steph has been doing a sort of ‘L' going down the Fifth and then heading to Thompson's clinic. I'll have her gather the antidotes and having the clinic ready, just in case." Babs said rolling into action and started typing in the computer. A massive and detailed map of Gotham showed up and everyone's location beeped into place, as well as Deadshot's red mission marker.

The first person he located was at the edges, he recognized Black Bat's symbol- "I see Cass in the edge of the piers, she's engaged with some… purse-snatchers?" he didn't know exactly from the bodycam image, but he was pretty sure it was a petty crime.

Still, she was kind of far away.

“Bruce and Damian are on the west side chasing after Black Mask. We just got a ping for him, actually…” she informed him and Dick groaned loudly, of coursed Bruce would be occupied. It looked like he should go help him wrap things up and then they could head up in a larger group to take down Deadshot. It would take longer to get to Deadshot but it made sense.

“You should go in case they need backup,” Babs said, clearly thinking in the same lines as he was.

The only problem was, they needed to make sure they didn't lose Deadshot while they circled back. He looked at the two dots slightly at the edge of the Bowery and his heart almost stopped there when he saw the symbols. "Tim and Jason are in the Bowery. They're closest," he said unnecessarily because Babs was already clicking on them.

Cameras were off, and Tim’s comms were off. A hard shut-down, no way of remotely rebooting them. Jason was off Bat channels, but he didn’t doubt Babs could get in contact with him. She bit her lip and considered it for a second.

“I’ll send them to scout the place,” she said and Dick was tempted to complain about stopping Tim and Jason’s conversation. He wasn’t sure he knew what exactly was happening and his skin was crawling in anticipation, but Babs own words echoed in his mind. They need to talk, and they need to do so alone.

But, he remained quiet. She’d been the one to say it to him. She hadn’t forgotten.

She’d just prioritized.

He memorized Bruce’s location and put on his domino. “So much for silent streets,” he said as he was leaving and Babs groaned loudly at him.

“God, don’t jinx it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> Sorry, it took me a while. As I mentioned last time, personal issues had been piling up, but fortunately, life's taking its course once more and things are getting back on track. I want to say so again, thank you so much for everyone who wrote a comment or simply spared a thought on my behalf, honestly, it meant more to me that you can imagine.
> 
> I think I’ll be able to go back to regular posting schedule (once every other week) for the foreseeable future.
> 
> Just as a heads up, I think this story will have six, maybe seven more chapters; though it could be longer than that; so that means, in my mind, we’re getting into the second half of the story.
> 
> As always, I love your comments, even if sometimes it takes me a couple days (or weeks in this case) to get back to you, I always read them over and over again, as they are my inspiration.
> 
> It’s been a while since I said this, but English is my second (third?) language and writing is also a way for me to improve my skills, so if you find a mistake or you have a tip or a suggestion, I am always happy to receive constructive criticism. 
> 
> Next up: Tim’s POV.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Mari


	11. Chapter 11

_So, First. I apologize. Second I assure him I don't have anything to do with Bruce and Dick's little meltdown. And Third, I make it clear I want to try this… maybe… If he wants to..._

_Easy. Right…_

_So…_

_Hi Jason._

_Thank you for meeting me here, I… I know you probably don’t want to… Anyway, I wanted to speak to you about the… you know, the soulmate thing? Yeah, so, I want to apologize to you. I know I’ve been handling this the wrong way, but… but…_

_…_

_Hi Jason, Uhm, Jay? Jas- Jay? Jay. Should I?... No. No, Jason._

_Hi, Jason._

_So, thanks for coming, for meeting me here. I know I haven’t been easy… Easy? I… Nope._

_…_

_Jason,_

_Thanks for coming. I… Well, I guess I want to apologize… No._

_You know what? I… No._

_…._

_Yeah, would you… can I speak first, and then, after that you can decide if you want to leave, or shoot me or fuck me… God, I hope you choose the fuck… I really need it. It's been **months** since…_

_No._

_Focus._

_Jason,_

_Thanks for coming. Could I speak first? I… There are a couple things I wanna say first._

_So, I'm sorry. I… I should've been honest. I shouldn't have kept the whole soulmate thing secret. Honestly, I didn't think I was keeping it a secret, because, you know, I thought you knew, so it wasn't really a secret, but… Oh, shit…_

_I want to apologize for not being honest with you. For assuming you didn't want me without giving you a chance to… to- do what? For assuming you didn't want me. Yeah. I'm sorry about that._

_I also want you to know that I talked to Bruce and Dick. Bruce is an asshole, but he means well. Dick's confused. And he loves us. And maybe he's a little scarred about the whole incest angle, but… you know… I don't mind._

_Oh, dear God…_

Tim ran his hand through his head as he landed on the corner he was meeting Jason.

Hopefully.

He’d been uselessly trying to prepare what to say and how to say it and he really had planned out a nice speech in his mind, back when he was at the Manor. Three simple points.

First, he needed to apologize. For not talking to him. For fleeing… He just needed to make sure Jason knew he wasn’t alone in being confused about this. He hadn’t been able to shake Jason’s hurt and confused face that evening in his bedroom.

Second, he needed to make sure Jason wasn’t hurt about Bruce and Dick, probably try to prevent him going down a destructive path that might cause harm to himself or to a civilian, and convince him he had nothing to do with Bruce and Dick’ stupidity.

And finally, he had to make sure they were on the same page about the state of their bond. He’d decided Bart had been right and he needed to speak with Jason about what they wanted. They… Tim needed to be sure if Bruce was right.

If Jason actually…

Anyway, he knew what to say, but he had no fucking clue how to say it.

Tim sighed chasing that thought away and looked at Roy’s message for the fifth time tonight.

_‘MLK and 11 th, 20:30. I’ll make sure he’s there.’_

He was in the right spot, he was sure. He could see almost all of Martin Luther King Boulevard from here. And the intersection with the 11th only had one building tall enough to actually provide enough propulsion to jump to any other building across the street, so any vigilante passing through this crossing would need to come through this spot…

Unless they were walking.

Roy hadn’t pointed out whether he was supposed to meet Jason in or out of costume and there was one of those nice little _café nu_ bar/coffeehouses thingies in this intersection.

Maybe Roy had meant for him to go _there_.

Maybe Jason would like to meet Tim as _Tim_ , not as Red Robin. And If Jason wanted to meet Tim, it made sense he would want to go there.

Well, maybe… Tim wasn’t sure he’d ever been to one of those places, Steph had tried to convince him to, but she’d never been successful.

‘Naked coffeehouses’ or _café nu_ 's were the result of some second-wave New Age / Sexual Revolution trend that had initially popped up in the '70s. Originally, they were part of a movement to break some traditional taboos, including the ones that stated that soulmarks were supposed to be _hidden_. People in these places came with their marks visible.

In the last five years, they had resurfaced as _a couple_ - _coffeehouse_.

 _Soulmate-_ coffeehouses.

Which would explain why Roy might actually mean for Tim, not Red Robin, to meet them there. Because Tim was _Jason’s_ soulmate.

Fuck.

That actually made sense.

_Why had he believed he should meet him as Red Robin?_

That was stupid. He hadn’t even thought about it. He was told to meet Jason on a Gotham intersection at night and he’d thought it meant Red Robin. He hadn’t even considered the idea of meeting his soulmate out of costume.

_Fuck, I screwed up._

Obviously, he'd misunderstood.

 _Jason_ wanted to meet _him_ , ‘ _Tim’_ him. Maybe he was down there, right now; waiting for him while Tim was up here like an idiot, waiting in a rooftop for his soulmate.

_His soulmate…_

He was meeting Jason as his soulmate.

Maybe because he wants… _No._

_Don’t go there… Don’t…_

He looked at his watch.

_20:28_

Tim took out his binoculars and scanned the streets, trying to pick anything through the coffeehouse windows. He realized he was getting a little frantic, but he had reason to be. He barely had enough time to change and get down there if he spotted Jason…

But then again, at least from here he could spot him.

What if he’d been right to come as Red Robin, and he goes down there and Red Hood arrives at the rooftop?

He’ll think Tim stood him up.

He'll think that he'll get hurt and Tim will have to activate one of his more complicated plans to track down Jason.

_…_

_What if I'm one that gets stood up?_

The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

What if this was just Roy setting Jason up? What if Jason knows nothing about their meeting?

It could be…

Again, if that was true it would make more sense to be here as civilians if that were the case.

Tim took his eyes from the binoculars and looked at his watch.

_20:28_

_Again?_

He focused on the seconds to actually check the watch was moving. Three seconds later – marked exactly as such by the watch – he had to concede that it _was_ actually working.

His internal clock was the one going all out of whack.

And it was because he was dressed in his vigilante costume waiting for his soulmate in a rooftop, placing all his chips on the word of one of his soulmate's best friends…

Tim sighed trying to drain the nervousness out of his body. This was stupid.

He shouldn’t be this nervous. Just a couple hours ago, when Dick had barged in his room and thrown him in a weird conversation about his future and his happiness, Tim was itching all over to find Jason. Dick had mentioned Roy’s name in passing and Tim had realized that if the archer was in the city, he must have been helping Jason.

That had been troublesome for several reasons, including the fact that Jason had needed help _in_ Gotham. Normally, when things got hard for Jason he left to Star; he could probably count with his hands the number of times Roy had had to come to bail out Jason. So Jason had probably taken the fight _badly_.

Though, he’d known that already. He’d seen the video. He’d seen him storm out after yelling at Bruce and Dick. It was obvious their words had affected him deeply, but until Dick brought up Roy, he hadn’t actually grasped how much. He’d expected Jason to retreat to himself, take out some anger on the streets and then… And then come looking for him.

Tim was perfectly aware of how hypocritical that sounded, considering he's done nothing but hide from Jason for the past five years. He hid his mark, their bond, and his own feelings. He's done nothing but dig himself in layers and layers of hurt and pain and blocked out most of what he'd been thinking, only letting himself open up a little these last few months, allowing himself to go on chili dog _dates_ and joint patrols. But, Jason had come to him. He’d sat on the knowledge of their mark for _a couple hours_ before barging into his room to _tell him_. Tim had kind of expected Jason to circle back to him once he'd processed their pseudo-conversation. Half the reason he'd decided to put some miles between them and call in Bart was that he needed a little certainty Jason wouldn't just barge into his room again and demanded a conversation he'd been woefully unprepared for.

That, and the fact that he always kind of did this. Jason hurts him. He puts a little space between them. About 2900 miles of space.

Tim sighed.

It turned out to be a mistake.

Mainly because he hadn’t expected Jason to blurt it out to someone else. He’d failed to take into account how easily the Bruce/Dick combo manages to get under Jason’s skin. And he’d failed to see how much Dick would be hurt about not being told. How badly he would take finding out about this. It wasn't the lies… Ok, yeah. Tim's pretty sure it was a lot about the lies. He'd felt his heartbreak when he saw Dick doubting the fact that Tim trusted him, that he loved him as his brother. Dick had thought about it as a matter of trust and love. And he'd reacted viscerally because of it.

It hadn't been that for him, though. For him, it was simply survival. He had kept quiet because he couldn't allow himself to be _that_ vulnerable. Or at least not that _kind of vulnerable_. He had no problem showing his physical and psychological weaknesses. He had plenty of those and his teammates more than made up for them. He'd told Ra's as much a couple years back. But _this_. Showing his soulmark. Acknowledging his soulmate. Recognizing how his body ached for _him_. That could end him. That could destroy him.

That’s why he’d created the mantra that was supposed to help him differentiate between Jason and _his soulmate_.

Except that now…

Now he was allowing himself to recognize all the hurt and the pain. He was standing on a rooftop waiting for _him_ to come. He was waiting for a conversation that was bound to make him vulnerable and weak.

…

On second thought, maybe being nervous about this wasn’t all that _stupid._

He looked at the watch again.

_20:28_

_…_

_Are you fucking kidding me!? That was like five whole minutes! **Minimum**. What th- _

_20:29_

…

One minute. Jason was supposed to show up in one minute.

Tim took the binoculars again and went back to check every single person currently in the crossroads. He was so focused on checking the surrounding areas, he failed to notice the figure zipping through the buildings to his right until he heard the sound of soft gravel giving way to an almost silent landing behind him. He turned around and saw Red Hood, standing five feet from him.

Red Hood.

 _So **Jason** didn't come_.

Tim allowed himself a little smile at recognizing that he’d managed to accurately foresee how they’d meet before his throat closed up on him as he looked at the imposing figure of his soulmate.

_His soulmate._

Red Hood was standing still, chin up and shoulders back, with his hands almost twitching atop the gun holsters. Not for the first time, Tim cursed that fucking helmet for taking away most of the subtle clues he could get from reading Jason’s face. He had never been very good at reading anything from his posture. Even with Lady Shiva’s training. Even with Cass’ sparring lessons.

And if he was bad reading other people. He was absolutely abysmal reading Jason because any amount of staring at him brought back the stupid itching in his hip and all his mental focus was spent trying to recite all the mantras that kept his mental walls up.

Tim stood up slowly and faced him, taking a similar stance, only he didn't exactly know what to do with his hands. Normally he would either cross them over his chest or tighten his staff and try to get into one of his starting katas. He couldn’t exactly do either right now. He couldn’t close up and he wouldn’t want to telegraph aggression. So he simply let them fall uselessly to his sides as he walked closer. He tried to come up with something to say that was slightly more meaningful than ‘ _hi’_ , but Jason beat him to it.

“I’mma fucking kill you, asshole,” Jason growled moving away from him. And _that_ froze Tim for a second before he realized Jason hadn’t actually said that _to him_. He had his hand on his left ear… or where his left ear was supposed to be under the Hood and he was growling low. And even if Tim couldn’t see his eyes, he knew Jason wasn’t staring at him.

_Oh. Roy didn't tell him._

He hadn’t exactly expected that scenario to be true, actually. Yes, he’d considered it in his little nervous rant, but he hadn’t expected Roy to actually try to outmaneuver Jason into going to a meeting without actually telling him who he’d be meeting. It was a recipe for a disaster. Jason hated not being in control, feeling as if he was being used or manipulated.

So Tim swallowed and looked at Jason, trying to give him a window to actually decide what to do. Trying to give him back a little bit of control over this scenario.

_You can leave if you want._

That was the right play. That… At least, he hoped it was. He believed it was. If Jason felt he’d been trapped he’d lash out… Jason needed to be able to give the first step here. And Tim needed to wait him out.

…

Unless he’d known Roy would try something like this. Then, coming here _was_ the first step and Tim not talking would mean he was unwilling to talk. And then Jason would bolt, hurt about being rejected.

And _fuck_ , Tim had never hated that fucking helmet more than now. He couldn't see Jason's eyes. He couldn't see his face. He couldn't see if waiting was making Jason grimace or smile, or if his lips were pressed thin or if he was biting them in contemplation. He couldn't see the wrinkle by his eyes or his temple vein, or…

Fuck he couldn’t read _any-fucking-thing_ and…

“Forget it. I don’t need this shit,” Jason huffed angrily and turned around and Tim realized he’d fucked up. He hadn’t said a word yet and Jason had also been waiting him out.

_Fuck._

_Of course, Roy wouldn't send him here blindly…_

“Wait!” he called hastily and moved to grab him by the arm, only managing to graze his jacket before Jason jerked his arm away. “Jason,” he started, but suddenly was at a blank as to how to speak to him, so he stayed there for a beat, silently staring at the faceless Hood.

“Tim,” Jason growled annoyed, his voice slightly distorted, but not enough as to mask the subtlety of his intonation.

“I- we haven’t finished our conversation,” Tim continued lamely trying to force his brain into action. Jason tensed up immediately before letting out an almost inaudible sigh.

“ _Here?_ ” he replied incredulously and Tim looked around and was tempted to agree with Jason. This rooftop, right on the edge of the main avenue that crossed the Bowery, was probably not the safest place to have a conversation about the state of their bond. On the other hand, Tim wasn’t exactly sure he would be able to safely run around Gotham with Jason next to him right now. So they were pretty much stuck here.

He shrugged and heard another deep sigh, the sound coming out distorted from the stupid voice modulator in the Hood, and Tim felt annoyed at it.  “Could I speak to _you_ , not the Hood?” he snapped and managed not to look repentant at the way Jason’s body immediately froze at that.

_Well, at least I managed to read **that**._

Jason moved slowly, taking his time with removing the helmet and then Tim was face to face with those navy blue eyes and he had to bit his lip because he was staring back at _Jason_.

His _soulmate_ , Jason.

 _His_ _Jason_.

 _Fuck_.

He hadn’t expected the rush of emotions at that and the raised eyebrow made him realize he was the one still masked, so he moved to take his own domino mask. He sighed and looked back at _Jason_.

Right… The speech

"So… Is it ok, if I talk first?" he started, knowing that giving Jason the ability to control this conversation was key here… And then recognizing his mistake first will help Jason to open up about his hurt. Jason simply took a step back, crossed his arms and shifted his weight to his right leg. Tim tried really hard not to read too much into it.

"Right... Ok, so first things first, I… I need to apologize, I should've never assumed you knew. I should've gone to you-"

“When?” Jason cut his apology off and Tim’s thought process froze as he looked at him confused, partly because he wasn’t exactly sure about what Jason meant by that… And maybe a little because Jason wasn’t actually angry or antagonizing him, he sounded… “When would you have told me, Tim? At the cemetery, when I was pretending to be Clayface, pretending to be me? After Titans Tower, while I bled you out? At the fake cave, with Bruce’s corpse still warm? Or, maybe a secret conjugal visit to Arkham, or Blackgate?”

Tim successfully avoided a flinch at the first two, but he actually grimaced as he remembered how Batman-Jason had beat him up and left him to die, only to be saved by Damian. But he didn't have time to reminiscence or reply because Jason's final _suggestion_ actually had him flush and choke on his tongue. He **so** didn’t need _that_ image in his mind.

But then again, he’d been a Robin. Actually, technically, he still was _a_ Robin. So his mouth was sometimes a little faster than his brain, so he quipped, “Well, at least that would have made reviewing the prison footage _a lot_ more interesting.”

He almost regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, but then he saw Jason’s eyes grow for a fraction of a second before a tremor shook his entire body as he forcefully bit down a chuckle, so he decided to double down. “Potentially scarring too, if Dick or Damian had been the ones in monitor duty,” Tim almost grinned in success as the corners of Jason’s lips tugged upwards a fraction of an inch.

But the victory was short-lived, as Jason shook his head and his almost-smile turned into a sad grimace, "The point, is that I _get_ why you stayed away, Timmy,” and Tim groaned at that nickname. Everyone knew he _hated_ being called ‘ _Timmy_ ’. It was like calling Dick ‘Ric’ or even calling Damian ‘Dami’. Only _very selected few_ could get away with it safely.

Which was probably why Jason had chosen to use it.

To distract him from what Jason was actually trying to say.

_You didn't tell me because you couldn't. **I g** **et** **it**._

And Tim’s whole speech about apologies and how he hadn’t trusted Jason fell uselessly at the back of his mind. He looked at Jason directly and tried to focus on him, trying to take advantage of the odd position he’d suddenly found himself, where Jason’s mental and emotional walls seemed not to work and Tim could _see him_.

Tim couldn’t help but smile a little about that because a knot in his throat released. Jason _got it._

Bart and Dick had been so confused about why he hadn’t told him, why they hadn’t talked. Bruce had decided he’d been acting like and _abuse victim_ because he’d kept quiet. But it wasn’t like he could actually _say_ anything, right? It wasn’t like he could just walk up to Jason, the _Pit_ Jason, and tell him, _‘Hey, I know you wanna kill me and all, but the Universe seems to want us together so chill, dude!’_

Despite what his abysmal track record might suggest, he wasn’t _actually_ suicidal.

But, that was ok. It was ok, that he hadn’t talked because Jason got it.

It didn't matter what Bruce or Bart or anyone thought about it, Jason, the only one who might actually have reason to be hurt and affected and who could hold it against him… he actually got why Tim had to stay quiet.

For his sanity.

For his survival.

For… Fuck, for _whatever_.

Jason wasn't asking for explanations. He didn't expect apologies. And Tim breathed a little easier and was able to hold Jason's gaze more confidently. He seemed to notice Tim's change in posture because Jason's shoulders relaxed a little as well and Tim smiled more confidently. "I still… I could have said anything sooner. Act better."

“Yeah, well, that’s true for everyone,” Jason said and he tried an honest smile and Tim had to swallow hard not to be distracted by it. He bit his lip and nodded. Well, that took care of the first point in his mental list. So…

_Right._

"Well, I- I talked to Bruce-" he tried to start on the second point but Jason closed the distance between them in a single step, losing any warmth in his posture, and his hands fisted around his guns.

“ _Fuck Bruce_ ,” he growled at an inch from his face, making Tim take a step back from the force and anger in Jason’s voice “I am _done_ letting him decide or dictate my life, his opinion is worth _shit_ to me.”

Tim raised his arms and frown a little at the end there, because Jason obviously still cared enough about Bruce’s opinion, or he wouldn’t be reacting like this to being reminded that Bruce was trying to keep them apart.

_Because Jason doesn’t want to be apart._

“Right…” Tim nodded trying to look calmly at Jason’s fiery blues trying to ease him into the knowledge that he was _with him_ and trying to ignore the anticipation in his throat as he thought about where this might lead, “So…” he tried to continue again, but Jason scoffed and interrupted him again.

“ _I_ fucking get to make the choice, not him,” he muttered slowly. And Tim looked dumbfounded at Jason for a second before the words fully registered in his brain.

_Oh._

Jason hated not being in control. Jason hated feeling as if he was being used or manipulated. He knew these things. It was obvious as he thought back on the conversation they were having. How Jason had acted. He wasn't mad about being kept away from Tim, he was angry about the choice being made for him. He simply wanted to be the one to decide _not to have a soulmate_.

He doesn’t want to be with Tim. He’s not mad about not being allowed to be with him. He just wants to be the one that makes the decision not to be with him.

Tim shifted his feet and moved away trying to look at anything other than Jason.

He didn’t like how his chest was constricting, nor how his hip was burning painfully from Jason’s proximity.

_Stupid._

_This was stupid…_

He took a deep breath trying to control his heart rate and was suddenly really happy Kon and Bart had gone back to San Francisco right after leaving him here. Especially Kon, he would know something was wrong with how erratic his heart was. Fuck, he hoped Kon was busy right now and was ignoring his heartbeat.

Tim looked back at Jason and hated the fact that he’d asked the man to take his Hood. This would be so fucking easier if he wasn’t looking at those navy blues staring at him confused and angry and _disgusted._

“ _What_?” Jason asked angrily baring his teeth at him, probably thinking Tim was about to launch on a tirade about how this decision had to be made for him. Probably expecting him to agree with Bruce. It’s what he did, wasn’t it? He thought and reasoned like Bruce. He was also a _detective_. He probably was the one who’s thought process most resembled Bruce’s.

But he wasn’t. He wasn’t fucking thinking.

Which meant he needed to take control of his emotions or he'll screw up.

"Nothing… I- I thought you were mad because they said… I-" Tim took another breath and slipped slowly into his mental walls. He'd known this could be an outcome. He'd said so to Dick yesterday, this was the most likely outcome. He knew Jason didn't want him. He'd known it. The last two weeks don't change anything. Jason doesn't want it to change. The fact that _Tim_ is the soulmate doesn't change anything. "Of course it doesn't…"

Jason would rather be markless.

It didn't matter.

Tim wasn't…

He needs to _stop_.

He’d screwed up when he read too much into Bruce’s words. When he started overanalyzing Jason’s reaction. When he’d fucking forgotten the last three fucking years. He’d let himself lower his wards because of all the confusion. Six years of secrets and four years of painstakingly building walls and mental locks to ignore everything and he’d still let himself hope.

_Fuck, Bruce shouldn’t have said shit._

Jason didn't want to be his soulmate. Tim just needs to stay the fuck away.

He can do this.

He can just go back-

He’s ok.

He will be ok.

_I just need my mantras. I’m fine with this. Mismatch couples weren’t uncommon. And if no one wants him… well, he’ll be alone.  That worked for my parents. That works for Bruce…_

He repeated the mental mantras he’d been building for over four years since Jason came back into his life. Jason was still looking at him with disgust, but there was a little bit of _questioning_ in there and Tim felt he’d gained enough control to manage to face the facts and just get this over with.

Fuck, he needs to get _away_.

But Jason hadn’t wanted to talk. Roy tricked him and Tim pressed him into it. If he were to turn tail and hole up until he puts his walls up, Jason’s going to follow him, pin him down and finish this conversation with his fists.

So he just needs to brace himself and press forward.

He’s good at that. He’ll swim in self-hatred and resentment all night and then, probably, he’ll ask Bart or Kon for a trip to the Tower… He can do that…

‘ _I’m serious, you have a family here.’_ He felt his chest a lot lighter after remembering Kon’s words.

_Right… I do have a backup plan._

He just needs to end this.

He looked up to Jason’s navy blues and blurted out: “Your views on soulmates haven’t changed, have they?”

He was kind of happy that he’d managed the sentence without breaking in the middle, even if the words had grated on his nerves and he’d felt the pressure come back to his chest immediately.

Tim saw, almost in slow motion, how the disgust and anger left Jason's eyes as a shiver traveled almost visibly through his spine. A different emotion took center stage in Jason's oddly over-expressive face and Tim would eat his suit if that wasn't **_pity_**.

“Tim,” Jason said. His words dripping with pity and sadness.

Pity.

That’s what he felt right now.

_Poor Timmy, the unwanted soulmate._

Tim felt bile start to pile up in his mouth. He wanted to yell at him that he didn’t need his fucking pity or his pain or his sadness. He hadn’t asked to feel like this since he found out about this. He hadn’t needed that pity when his soulmate tried to kill him. He hadn’t needed it when his family turned on him. He doesn’t fucking need it now.

‘ _Fuck you, Jason. Fuck everything about this. I didn’t ask for it.’_

The words died on his tongue and instead Tim remember he needed to get the fuck away so his _nonchalant_ mask started to take over, “Look, I get it-” he tried to say raising his hands in a _'what do you do_ ' gesture.

“No, you don-”, Jason cut him.

“Yes. I do,” Tim cut him off too, tired of having Jason derailing his speech and honestly feeling about to get sick from having to stand here, dealing with the burning in his hip. “Look, I… God, I’m… Oh, fuck this…” Tim took a deep breath and sealed his feelings away, facing Jason’s eyes and steeling himself, “Let’s just get it over with, ok? It’s fine. Yeah, I _do_ actually like the idea of a soulmate. There. I said it…” Tim took a deep breath again feeling a bit of the pressure in his chest release at that, looking at Jason who was obviously taken aback by it, probably expecting Tim to shit on their bond, or ask to be left alone… He felt the fire from before settle back in his gut, “And honestly, I thought it was unfair and twisted, back when you were still reeling from… everything…, how I had paired with a soulmate who _despised_ out bond. Thinking you were rejecting me out of hand fucking stung, but I’m fine with it, you know?”

Jason tried to talk but Tim swatted his hands to stop him, not willing to get himself to stop. “I know, I know… my fault, me and my overacting imagination. I _get_ _that_ … I don’t hold it against you. Should’ve gone to you, talk to you, like you tried to do. And I get you don’t want… I get, I have a bond with a soulmate who doesn’t like soulmates… I mean, yeah, it sucks, but it’s not really all that different from before.”

It wasn’t, really.

Yes, right now he’s aching and his hip is seconds away from melting, but…

“Actually, it’s kind of better, because I know you’re not actually _trying_ to hurt me…" Tim said, trying to convince himself of it. Trying to find a silver lining here.

It was true.

Before, he thought there was something wrong with him, now… now he knew it was just that Jason didn't want the bond. He didn't trust the bond.

He's fucking ok with that.

He just needs to take deep breaths and not let his emotions show. 

_I’m fine with this. Jason doesn’t want to be my soulmate. I’m fine. I just need to stay away._

“I would never…" Jason's voice made him look up again and Tim had to take a double-take when he saw the _pain_ raw and unaltered in Jason’s eyes as he moved a step closer to him, “Fuck, I…” Jason looked at him and Tim wasn’t sure what he was trying to tell him, but the weight in his chest increased exponentially looking at him. Jason shook his head and let a small sigh escape his lips before he said, “You’re _not_ the idea I had when I thought about my soulmate,” Jason let out, probably he hadn’t meant for Tim to listen or he hadn’t meant to say it out loud because he sighed hard and pinched his forehead.

Tim had known that, and still, he found that the pain from finally hearing what he’d known from years, directly from his soulmate’s lips didn’t felt any less brutal against his chest.

Of course, Tim knew that Jason didn't consider him to be a good soulmate. He'd never wanted one in the first place, so why had he deluded himself into thinking that maybe…

_I’m fine with this._

_Jason doesn’t want to be my soulmate. I just need to stay the away._

_I’m fine with this. Mismatch couples aren’t uncommon. And if no one wants me, I’ll be alone.  That worked for my parents. That works for Bruce…_

_I’m fine._

_I am…_

“Right,” Tim muttered out trying to maintain his emotions in check, feeling as if he was one small breeze away from breaking down and being completely unable to hold Jason’s gaze anymore.

He needed to get out of here.

“Not the most appealing option out there…” he managed to choke out trying to put his best Timothy mask out there.

A falsely open and sincere smile that he’d perfected at his early WE Board of Directors meetings.

It was his smile for all the ‘ _you know this is_ _nepotism’_ , or ‘ _you’re only_ _here because of a fuck-up’_ or ‘ _you know he’s probably the boss’ fuckboy, right?’_ situations, when a glare and a promise of future retaliation wasn’t an option, and all he could do was pretend he was game for a little joke or a funny situation.

It was also his smile for those times his soulmate asked him to _‘go out for chili dogs’_.

It was the smile he used whenever his brain was in a circuit of _‘you’re fucking breaking me, please stop, please let me go, please don’t make me feel anymore, just leave’_.

_I’m fine._

_I’m going to be fine._

“Appealing?” He looked up at Jason’s breathless voice and his eyes were still too blue for Tim so he froze his fake smile on his face and braced himself. He would take the joke and turn around. Fuck the rest of the conversation. Fuck his three points and his checking on Jason’s mental state. He can’t…

 _I can’t_ …

_I’m going to be **fine**. _

“I thought my soulmate was going to be the Joker or Sionis… Fuck, I thought my soulmate was some _mistake_ ,” Jason said and the clown’s name broke through the haze of Tim’s mental loop and look up to Jason surprised.

_He’d thought… What?_

“You…” Jason laughed sadly gesturing with both his hands at him “Fuck, pretty bird, you’re _perfect_.”

_..._

_What?_

Tim looked dumbfounded at Jason who was looking back at him and his hands were still stretched generally gesturing at the whole of him. He held that position for a second before he lowered his arms and placed both hands back on the holsters of his guns. Tim noticed Jason’s fingers were twitching and he wondered for a second why that was and a part of him wanted to take a step back, but his legs didn’t move.

_He thought it was Joker?_

"What?"

Jason was standing a good five feet away from him and…

And he’d thought his soulmate was the Joker- or Black Mask?

Tim tried to imagine himself tied to the clown.

No.

He didn't have the kind of rapport with…

He imagined himself being tied to _Ra’s_. To the man that had tortured him, played with his mind, tried to kill him and he shuddered. And…

Ok. Yeah, he’s kind of aware that Jason also tortured him, played with his mind and tried to kill him, but… But he’s Jason. And Jason was _his Robin_. He was _his hero_. And Jason was far much more to him than simply a past villain. Jason was a lot more. He was a Bat. First and foremost.

Plus the Joker had killed Jason.

He’d killed him, and he’d tricked him, and he’d tortured him.

Jason **couldn’t** have believed he was his soulmate, right?

And if he did…

God, it made so much sense, now. The constant denial, the aggressive rejection of the bond. The insecurity and distaste every time the topic was discussed.

It wasn’t about him. It was about Jason’s doubts. And it couldn’t be about him because Jason thought…

_Perfect?_

Tim hadn’t missed that intonation. Jason hadn’t just _said_ he was perfect. That word wasn’t just stated, it wasn’t just accentuated. It had… Jason had dragged that word from deep within his soul. He’d meant it. He’d…

 _Perfect?_ Why…

Tim only realized his ears were buzzing when he noticed Jason’s voice sounded really distorted. That was also the time he realized Jason had kept on talking and was looking at him earnestly as he kept on talking, and he wasn’t listening, and he tried to focus… he really tried but…

_“…I mean I’m not sure about the whole soulmate thing. I- Fate can go and fuck itself with the whole bonded pair bullshit, but… but that doesn’t mean it- I mean it could be- If it’s you, we could…”_

Tim wasn’t exactly sure what Dr. Fate had to do with what Jason was talking about because…

 _Jason thought he’d been_ mated to the _fucking Joker?_

_Seriously?_

…

And he really needed Jason to stop talking and circle back to that _Perfect pretty bird_ statement he’d made a couple seconds ago, because the Joker part was a little bit too much to process already, and Tim wasn’t sure.

He wasn’t exactly sure he was ready to deal with that.

And Jason was looking at him earnestly and openly and his hand was on his wrist, above the soulmate mark, and he was looking at him. Expectantly.

_What?_

It took a whole three seconds of silence for Tim to realize Jason had asked something. Or he had expected Tim to react to something. And then it took another second for Tim to realize he hadn’t wiped the stupid _fake smile_ from his face… or… actually yeah, he wasn’t smiling, he was pretty much gaping, and he’s pretty sure he’s the last one who spoke, asking Jason to please shut the fuck up and go back to the _pretty bird_ bit, but… he hadn’t said that out loud so…

“You… want…” he tried to articulate anything but his throat had decided this was the time to close up and his brain seemed to be on board with the plan because he was fucking blank here.

"Look, Tim, we don't… I mean, I get if you don't want to do anything with this. I get it. I hurt you, fuck if it was me I would probably be running to the other side, to the arms of your Super Boy-toy, but… If you… I mean…" Seeing Jason fumble over his words, and funnily enough, the mention of Kon somehow was enough for Tim's brain to reboot and he took a step closer and rose his hand to cut Jason.

“Jason,” he said softly and Tim would have to dissect it later, but suddenly the only thought that came to mind was ‘ _Holy shit, Bruce was right!’_

Still, his name was enough to have Jason calm down and take a breath and hopefully turn all that stream of thought into a coherence sentence that Tim could work with, beyond the _Perfect Pretty Bird_ statement that had managed to bury itself deep in Tim’s chest making him feel warm and fuzzy.

Jason took a deep breath and a step closer, reducing the distance between the two of them to less than a feet. And Tim’s ears were buzzing and his lungs were pretty much not working right now.

“What I’m saying is,” Jason started softly, looking him straight to the eyes and pressing his hand on his wrist mark and Tim had to try really hard not to bit his lips or let the _Perfect Pretty Bird_ warmth from grinning and bouncing on the balls of his feet, “I would… If you want, I would like to try-”

Tim didn't get to hear what Jason would like to try.

A high pitched noise blasted through Jason's commlink and the sound had the boy curse loudly and bark a dark and dangerous " ** _What?_** ” that had him both confused, annoyed and emotionally unbalanced.

He refused to let himself delve into a mental tantrum about _what Jason fucking meant_ …

Even if it seemed obvious.

Even if he…

He won’t do it. He won’t have expectations about what couple of words would end that sentence.

So, Tim stood there frozen and confused as Jason's face went from annoyed and dark to confused and then alert. Tim felt the same initial annoyance at having Roy interrupt their conversation because he was completely certain that comms link had flared up at least three times during their conversation, meaning Roy had been listening in.

His thoughts were cut short as Jason’s eyes widened and he gestured Tim’s comms. Confused, he turned them on and Oracle’s voice came in. “-Deadshot was seen entering the building and you two are the closest ones.” Tim felt a shiver run through his spine at that.

_She found him…_

"Batman, Nightwing, and Robin will arrive ten minutes later, they're tangled with Black Mask, wait for them."

Tim didn't allow himself a second to consider the possibility of continuing their conversation, one look at Jason's hardened eyes and he realized he was back to being Red Hood. Which meant he had to be Red Robin.

"Roger that O," he said, beating Hood to the confirmation.

He put his domino mask on and saw Jason give him an apologetic (hopeful?) smile before the helmet was on, a second later, he was standing alone in the roof, watching Hood’s back as he threw himself to the next rooftop starting the mad run to Deadshot’s location.

He gave himself a second respite, though, as a thought just crossed his mind.

He changed channels and was in a different frequency that only he and Oracle used.

“Why did you do that?” he asked as he threw himself in chase of Hood. He’d been sure it had been _Roy_ who had been snooping in on Jason's ear and he felt a wave of cold anger in the pit of his stomach at the alternative.

“Do what?” she asked, although her tone of voice made it clear she knew what he was asking about.

“I know he had the mic open,” Tim confessed. Jason had been talking to Roy when he’d arrived, and he’d taken the helmet because Tim asked him to. He hadn’t disabled it, he just took it off. So Babs had probably tapped into Roy’s feed and contacted Jason directly, after listening in on their conversation for a bit.

Tim couldn’t fault her for it, he would have done the same in her position. But he would have let them finish the conversation before cutting in…

Unless…

"We're about to enter a critical mission," Oracle replied her voice hard and cold, Tim felt the ice settle harder on his gut thinking Babs might be on board with Bruce's ‘ _Let’s keep them apart’_ plan. “If we still had the quiet streets and full-housed Arkham we’ve enjoyed the last few days I wouldn’t have stopped you, _really_. You have no idea how much I want the two of you to… I’m truly sorry, but this is not the time for whatever was about to happen there…”

A part of him was relieved to hear Babs wasn’t actually plotting against them. It was just that the Mission came first. Babs was basically telling him the same thing he would have said- the same thing he’d probably already said before to his teammates, whenever _he_ was the one butting in **their** personal conversations, to steer them back into the Mission.

Still, doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“Yeah, because being distracted trying to figure out what Jason was going to say is definitively not going to come back and bite me in the ass,” he bit out sarcastically and ended up with a scoff as a thought crossed his mind. “You know, going against Deadshot with him in my head was _exactly_ what started all this bullshit,” he added just to mess with Babs.

It was true enough, though he was aware – and she probably was too – that the situation this time wasn’t nearly as similar. This time he wasn’t running away from a conversation with Jason, but actually looking forward to when they come back to this _Perfect Pretty Bird_ moment/thing Jason had created for him.

Oh, if he was reading that conversation right, he’s definitively looking forward to whatever Jason wanted to say there.

“This time you’re not alone,” Babs said, ending their solo conversation and returning them to the shared frequency where he could hear Jason’s controlled breathing mix in with the Clocktower’s background sounds.

_-_-_-_

“Reds in position, O. Do we have an ETA?” Hood said using the code they’d decided upon a long time ago every time they teamed up. Together they were ‘Reds’, Jason was ‘Hood’, and he was ‘Red’ or ‘RR’. It was easy, it avoided confusion.

Most of the time.

O gave them the order to wait for ten minutes.

Tim looked back to the warehouse O had sent them to. The place was a whole-block warehouse made of what seemed to be insulated metal panels that formed a series of… slabs, each about 30 feet wide. Seven on the front, nine across… About… 60… 58.000 sq ft., that’s 1.5 acres of storing space.

So big, but not huge.

The place had a couple windows in what Tim thought was a possible second floor on the side of the building. Probably some management offices. And there was something… It was oddly familiar, even though he wasn’t exactly sure why. The place was bugging in his brain and he tried to figure out why it felt like he’d come here before for a previous mission.

It was probably the fact that it screamed _Generic Warehouse_ so loudly he half expected to see a couple of grunts patrolling the entrance with fucking rifles in a cartoonish kind of setting. There weren’t though, grunts. The place was empty and looking at it from the side, Tim wouldn’t have guessed the place had people in it.

"Are you up for this, Red?" Hood's voice distracted him from taking in the place and trying to pinpoint why it was bogging him. He turned to the side and rose an eyebrow at Hood. He's not one to question his fitness for the job. Hood rose his hands in surrender and shrugged, "Last I knew you were in bed rest. I'm just saying… You can stand down and let me take point."

The eyebrow rose higher even as a smile tugged on his lips, “Are you worried about me, Hood?” he teased before he swatted his hand at him “I’m fine, the effects only lasted three days,” he said.

Hood hummed and muttered "Whatever you say, pretty bird," and Tim was surprised when the moniker didn't felt like a stab on his side, instead of filling him with warm and fuzzy feelings while he tried to convince himself he wasn't blushing.

He ignored the feeling and the comment, and one hack later, he had the blueprints for the warehouse with the modifications for previous renovations that included a lot of new tech implemented in the place. Despite looking like a generic warehouse, the place was very secure and very well taken care of.

He focused on cataloging everything he could about the place, starting with the obvious entry point through the circular window that was clearly a bathroom. He had at least three secure exit plans and extraction contingencies in mind when Hood's voice distracted him again.

"Here's my plan: We get a rocket launcher, blow the door to hell and walk-in shooting off their knee caps and kicking Deadshot's ass before the Bat gets here," he said obviously looking very proud of his ‘ _plan’_.

Tim couldn't help but grin at it before taking it apart. "Ok. First, there are no rocket launchers here," he said raising a finger and fake-glaring at Hood "Second, there's no way I'm letting you set an explosion on a building stocked with Artificial-K; third, we're not kicking Deadshot's ass, just the two of us; and fourth, we _are_ waiting for Batman,” he finished raising his fingers before looking back at his blueprints.

They were _suspiciously_ detailed.

“So, what I’m hearing is that I have your blessing for blasting kneecaps,” Jason surmised and Tim rolled his eyes hard ignoring that comment and most definitively ignoring the smirk he knew Jaso- Hood. Ignoring the smirk _Hood_ had under his… well, his _hood_. Lowercase hood… _Helmet._ Yeah, helmet. Hood’s helmet.

Tim took a deep breath as silently as possible and held it until he reached 30, before letting it out slowly.

_Focus._

He looked back into the warehouse. Looking at the data on the place he'd realized why it seemed familiar. He'd actually been there at least twice in his tenure as a vigilante. Both times he'd taken down Falcone's operations. They stashed everything here, or they did… once upon a time. This place was still in the middle of Falcone's stomping grounds. The place had changed hands at least five times and Tim had to check out the information on his wrist computer to make sure he was up to date.

Two quick searches revealed that this place had been repossessed and then sold to Falcone’s nephew. New blood, recently arrived from… _Trenton?_ Really? Wow. He’d expected some Sicilian paradise. Mafia kids these days _do_ _not_ respect tradition… or clichés.

Still. It was Falcone’s place. His turf.

_Why would-_

“What?” Jas- _Hood_ cut his train of thought and Tim looked up to see his helmet half tilted to the side, he rose an eyebrow questioningly and could _hear_ the annoyed sigh from Hood, “I can hear the wheels turning from here Red, what is it?” Hood pressed moving his hand in a ‘ _come on’_ gesture.

“I was just thinking, it’s weird,” Tim clicked his tongue as he tried to put his _feeling_ into words _,_ “This is Falcone’s old weapons cache, it was seized, repossessed and re-sold to his nephew…” he showed Hood the data on his wrist computer and as he watched him scan thought it, he asked the first question that was bugging him “Why would Maroni’s henchman hide Deadshot at Falcone’s nephew’s place?”

"Misdirection," Hood replied immediately and Tim let out an unconvinced humming. It could be… No one would think about looking for them in the turf of their most notorious rival gang. Certainly, _they_ hadn’t…

Wait, they hadn’t. They hadn’t searched for Deadshot here.

Tim was certain that up until today, search parameters for Deadshot weren't focused on this part of town. Only the general software was running city-wide. He'd checked _today_. So…

“Oracle,” he called her pressing the button on his comms, “How did you track Deadshot?” he asked.

He heard the tapping of keys in the background as soon as Oracle started to talk. “ATM cam picked an image of one of his cars,” she said as the images of a half identified face showed up in his wrist. “The driver had the window down and we got a partial match, I followed it and he was caught again by a camera three blocks south,” The other two images and a couple maps showed up matching perfectly with Oracle’s narration. “Once I had a positive ID, I alerted everyone,” she finished and the images remained on his holo-computer.

Happenstance.

Yeah, the ‘ _bugging_ ’ had definitively graduated to _dread_.

“Something’s not adding up…” he said looking back to the warehouse. Something was wrong with this picture but Tim wasn’t exactly sure what it was. He was missing something. He was sure of it.

"He messed up, pretty bird. Happens to the best of us," Hood said, and Tim didn't even try to register his reaction to the nickname anymore.

Why had Falcone let Maroni hide here? It made no sense.

“No, there’s… We’re missing something,” Tim reiterated.

“Come on, Red,” Hood insisted signaling the warehouse, “He’s crashing at his rival’s old bunker, so what?” It wasn’t just that.

Sure, under normal circumstances rival gang members could cash in some previous favor to try and lay low. But this wasn’t normal circumstances. Everyone knew by now that Maroni was on the Bat’s blacklist. The takedown had sent half the fucking mafia into hiding.

It made no sense-

“Look, you’re overthinking this,” Hood insisted.

Tim clicked his tongue annoyed, "Hood, please, let me think…" he said, Hood's constant commentary wasn't letting him try to put everything in perspective. He needed a second to rearrange his perspective on this. "I- There's something…" His detective skills were very well-honed and sometimes his brain would catch something that his mind didn't have time or focus to the process.

He needed to take a step back and try to figure out what was wrong with this picture.

“Red Robin? You should tell us if something’s bothering you. If it doesn’t add up to you, it’s probably worth checking it out,” O said, all but reiterating what he’d thought about. He sat on the roof and took his binoculars to look at the seemingly empty warehouse. “The place looks clean, but you should probably wait for Batman, he’ll- _Shit,_ ” The expletive was followed by a frenzy of keystrokes followed by another curse, “Listen, I have to go. Keep me posted, Reds.”

O cut the communication and Tim allowed himself to focus on this.

Focus on… he tried to decide on where to focus. He knew the what, the where and the how he'd gotten here. There were holes in all those questions. He didn't know exactly what Deadshot was doing here; he didn't buy the whole _let’s cash in a favor_ to justify their stay in Falcone's place and certainly getting their location by happenstance was grating on him. But there was another question that he didn't like about this. The timing. 

_Why now?_

There’s no reason to the timing if Deadshot had just messed up. He couldn’t exactly time a mistake… Unless it wasn’t a mistake… Unless he wanted Oracle to find him. He wanted her to be looking at an ATM machine camera to catch a glimpse of his head through his driver’s open window, and then match it up with a partial glimpse trough a second camera…

It… It didn’t sound planned. It really sounded like a mess-up… And there seem to be nothing about the date that would really justify… But there was something about this whole thing that was grating on his nerves and he couldn’t get himself to stop-

“Look, how about a compromise?” Hood said blowing his focus on that final line of thought. He turned to glare at him but Hood was looking at the warehouse. “We don’t kick down the door; instead, we sneak in, we can get a bit more intel, you do a bit of creepy ‘ _detectiving’_ and when you’re satisfied, we bust their asses off,” he said pointing out at a round window by the second floor that Tim had already surmised was the best entry point, “All before the Bat gets here,” he finished and Tim clicked his teeth together a couple times trying to think about it.

Getting information would be a good idea. Not flying in blind when Batman gets here… And he could probably assess the situation better if he has a better idea of what the situation is inside. But he hated the fact that Hood- No, _Jason_ was letting his feelings get the better of him.

He didn’t want to see Bruce, so he’s pushing to end this before he gets here.

Even if that means busting a place like this without back up…

He didn’t like it…

But he needed the information.

But, he didn’t like it… He always listened to that _gut feeling_ … though he honestly never felt that in his gut, he always felt it more like an itch in his brain that told him he was overlooking something. But he didn't have time for brain itching when he had Hood, looking expectantly at him, so he turned to him and grabbed his arm hard.

“ _Strictly_ _Recon_ ,” Tim said with as much authority as he could muster and Hood nodded once before moving around the roof silently and getting his line out and hook it just above the round window.

He saw Jason zip all the way to the warehouse and silently open the window before entering and signaling him to do the same. Half a minute later they were inside a small bathroom and Jason opened the door peeked outside and took point. It was a pretty standard warehouse. They'd entered to what appeared to be the management rooms and offices on the added second floor.

They moved silently towards a window on the far side of the offices that probably overlooked the entire warehouse.

The feeling of wrongness in his brain increased as they came closer to the rail as several hushed voices started to fill the background. Tim moved slightly over the railway to see the rows and rows of metallic shelves and up ahead… _Oh, come on!_

“So, he’s not alone…” Jason said in an almost conversational manner that had Tim grit his teeth.  

"No, he's not alone," Tim replied through his clenched teeth. **_That_** _is the understatement of the century._

This, _this_ _precise picture_ is the reason _why_ he listens to his brain-itch. But no, he had to listen to Jason and come sneaking around a fucking warehouse he didn’t want to enter in the first place.

“What is it?” O’s voice came through their comms and Hood was the first one to reply.

"We stumbled into a fun little gathering, O," he said looking back to the entrance of the warehouse, were there were at least fifty people were gathered around three tables. "Falcone, Maroni, the Odessa, Mexicans and Colombian Cartels, four flavors of Chinese gangs. I mean, this is a whole _who is who_ of Gotham gangs,” Hood listed to her and Tim went checking mental boxes about power players in town. That was virtually all non-metas in Gotham, “Damn, I think not even I managed to gather all these people in a single place.”

For his own mental health Tim ignored how Jason’s voice was dripping with obvious _respect_ for whoever had managed to gather all these people here.

Tim knocked down his annoyance at not taking his own feelings seriously and decided to focus on the problem at hand. He looked down and tried to take everything about this gathering. Something was definitively _off_ and now he had proof. So he needed to focus on this new picture and try to decide why this is grating on his nerves.

Deadshot hadn’t just hired some muscle for protection, he also had all the gang heads meeting in a single place. And they were all… what? Tim could pick up a tension in the air and it was too heavy. It didn’t help that everyone was looking to the right, almost as if expecting someone to arrive. Almost eager and frightened.

Was there someone higher up the food chain?

And whoever that was, they had all _these people_ waiting for them?

Making people wait might sound like a neat power move, but with this kind of crowd that was just fanning the flames of a Gang War. That was just plain stupid.

No, in a situation like this the host doesn't make people wait, they make sure everything's according to plan. They defuse the tension. So whoever managed to get all these people here, _is_ here.

“Maybe they’re planning on selling the guns,” Jason said. Tim stared at him and inserted that option into his thought process.

It was a sensible scenario.

It did make sense.

In that case, they’re not waiting on someone, they’re just waiting on an agreed timetable to start bidding. It could also explain the tension. Maroni probably didn’t want to hold those guns anymore and he could be trying to sell them to the highest bidder. It would also explain why Black Mask had suddenly started making trouble for the Bat, calling him out by name. He was probably the distraction.

A distraction from the real ploy to try and sell Artificial-K guns…

…

_The guns._

The pieces started fitting in Tim’s head, forming a different picture, one he didn’t like one bit.

‘ _He was caught again by a camera three blocks south._ ’

‘ _Quiet streets and a full-housed Arkham._ ’

_‘This is a whole who is who of Gotham gangs.’_

‘ _They’re tangled with Black Mask, wait for them._ ’

‘ _It’s been all_ _quiet streets for weeks._ ’

Tim tried to create a narrative from what he knew.

Deadshot, who up until now had been completely under the radar got caught not once, but twice in the same day. Just barely enough to be a mess-up, but clearly enough to be identified if someone was paying attention. And someone was obviously paying attention since he'd managed to escape Batman's justice after hurting one of his birds.

He was seen… and just for the sake of argument, assume he let himself be seen… And goes… _leads them_ to a warehouse full of gang members. Gang members who've kept quiet over the last few days… who've been hiding… keeping the streets quiet. Of course, they could be hiding as a response to the Maroni Takedown… But they're all hiding _with_ _Maroni,_ the last guy they would like to associate with if they’re actually hiding.

Gang members who’re not interested in talking or mingling, but simply staying there, sitting with each other in a nice little warehouse, all looking to the right.

All looking _west_.

West…

The direction Batman was coming from after Black Mask had come out of nowhere…

On the same day, Deadshot was being seen entering this place…

…

It could all be a distraction: Jay could be right and Black Mask is simply a distraction for the Bat while the weapon sell goes down… and the gang members might not be laying low to wait out the heat from the Maroni Takedown, but simply lay low not to draw attention to a massive weapons sale.

It could be…

Except…

“We have to get out,” Tim said standing up and grabbing Jason’s hand and trying to move him back to where they came from.

‘ _My working theory is that these were brought in to get us._ ’

Tim heard his own voice as he felt a shiver down his spine. The weapons were in Gotham to _kill_ _the Bats_. That had been his working theory…

_And if it was right…_

If it was right, Black Mask wasn’t trying to distract Batman. Deadshot hadn’t fucked up. They were trying to lure him. Here, where all the gangs were meeting up with a man that was last seen carrying not Artificial-K weapons, _Batman-killing_ weapons.

This was a trap to kill the Bats.

“Now!” he shook Jason out of his confusion and turned around only to be stopped by a voice to his right.

“Hey, Falcone!” someone yelled with an evidently joyful tone, “There’s _rats_ in this place,” Tim turned around to see one of Maroni’s guys with an Artificial-K weapon aimed at him. He barely had a chance to curse before a disorienting pain spread from the back of his head, his own grunt mixing with Jason’s scream in a deafening sound as the room was lighted green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!!
> 
> Sorry it's taken me so long!! I'm not even going to try and apologize for the wait, but I do have good news (?): I have the next three chapters pretty much written and only in need of some adjustment so...
> 
> Next chapter: Jason's POV and his take on the warehouse fight.


	12. Chapter 12

"We have to get out," Red Hood lost his focus on the gathering and he snapped back at Red, at his urgent and frightened tone.

_What?!_

They were about to bust _a major_ weapon transfer with the heads of most major gangs in the city, all thanks to someone screwing up a camera angle and now Red want's to leave?

_Fuck, no!_

The Bat messed up by getting distracted by Blackie, but Red Hood wasn't distracted. He-

Red stood up, evidently freaked out and grabbed his hand. "Now!" he said and _fuck_ the pretty bird looked scared. That was enough to shake Hood out of his confusion and he turned around when he heard an asshole with a fake Italian accent yelling.

"Hey, Falcone! There's _rats_ in this place," he turned to the side to look at a _kid_ no older than twenty, holding an Artificial-K weapon aimed at him.

_Shit. They'd been made._

He was about to bust the guy's kneecaps. _Red had authorized it, after all…_ But then, he saw the guy wasn't aiming at him.

He was aiming at Red.

At the pretty bird.

At **Tim**.

_Not again._

Tim was one step ahead of him, but before he had time to react, Jason reached out with his arm to push Tim away, but ended up hitting him with the butt of the gun on the base of his skull, sending him falling on his face. He couldn't do anything, though, because the room filled green and suddenly he felt heat spread from his chest to his entire body.

His head felt about to explode and his muscles felt like they were being torn apart from the inside. Jason heard himself scream and heard Tim say something, but... he… he couldn't think. His head was about to explode and his lungs were begging at him to breathe, but his chest was on fire and he couldn't… he couldn't…

And then he opened his eyes, he saw the green… And the pain… God, it was so much. His bones were all breaking at different places.

He couldn't…

_Not again…_

He stopped screaming as that thought crossed his mind and he looked up to see the Clown, and the Assassin, and the Bat… and all the people that had hurt him.

_Not again… They are not putting me on that pool again… He's not getting in me the Pit again… He's not…_

Jason yelled and raised his arm feeling like he was breaking it into pieces but he didn't care. He was not going into the Pit. He was not getting into the rage. He… He shot at the stupid clown and his fucking stupid crowbar… He shot at the master assassin and his bloody madness pool… He shot at the Bat and his crazy ideals and stupid larger-than-life expectations.

_They weren't killing him again._

Jason roared as the green subsided and launched himself at _them._ The clown, the assassin, the bat. They were all there, looking at him… trying to hurt him. He felt his fist connect and the burning in his arm made him laugh. He wasn't breaking anymore. He hit them again in the face. _He was whole…_ He hit them again and again. _They hadn't broken him…_ He moved his hands on their throats as the body in front of him shifted from the Clown to the Assassin, to the Bat.

_He had to kill them._

_They had to die before they tried to break them again._

"Red Hood," a voice yelled at him and he turned around ready to fight, but the man in front of him wasn't green. The pretty bird was red and black, he was pale and his eyes were white, but he knew they were blue behind the mask…

"Stop," the pretty bird said, "They're coming. We have to leave."

_Leave…_

Jason snapped out of it and took in the whole place.

Deadshot.

Gang meeting.

Artificial-K weapon.

**_Not_ ** _the Pit._

He looked down at the kid from Maroni's crew. He wasn't the clown, or Ra's, or the Bat. He was just a kid he'd beaten to a pulp. Jason felt himself getting sick and he moved to the side feeling his insides twist and his mouth dried out as he started retching, but nothing came up and his throat felt sore and slimy at the same time. He was pulled up, pushed out of the room and carried somewhere…

The whole world was moving far too fast, his muscles still were reeling and Jason staggered to the side to try to steady himself, but he ended up crashing against Tim.

_Wha…?_

He looked at his arm, it was hoisted up on top of Tim's shoulders and Jason shook his head to try to clear the fog.

Tim… was carrying him… He was carrying him to… Out of the warehouse… The warehouse where they were busting a weapons deal. But they got caught first. And shot…

 _Right_.

Tim dropped him on the floor as they hid behind a desk. He could hear footsteps close by, people running. His full hearing suddenly came back and he was aware of the screaming and the frantic orders.

_Fuck._

His brain kept pounding against his skull, making it feel as if he would explode at any time, and his skin was itching painfully as if someone was peeling it from his muscles from within. His sight was blurry and now that he wasn't moving anymore he felt nausea return full force, but his stomach was still empty and somehow he didn't even have any bile left to throw up.

He tried to even out his breathing and cancel the pain by focusing on his surroundings. Tim was in front of him messing with the front pouches of his chest belt, assembling something. They were trapped on the second floor of a warehouse filled with gang members from all over Gotham, pissed off at having their little deal busted.

Feeling much more clearheaded, he looked up to see Tim's worried face.

It looked wrong on his pretty bird.

"Ok. I'll admit it. We should've waited for the Bat," he tried to joke with a dried throat and a weak smile.

But Tim looked at him and frowned "I'm glad we didn't…" Jason felt his eyebrows rise at that, because, _sorry?_ "Hood, this was a trap," he whispered as if it was obvious. It probably was for him. _‘Stupid sexy detective.'_

He shook that thought away as not appropriate for the time being and tried to focus on what Tim was saying, "They're trying to set us up and kill us with the Artificial-K weapon."

Ok.

Jason had to admit that actually made sense.

It explained why he kept hearing _more_ gang members rather than less. Usually, a busted deal meant the rats would scatter. They hadn't. Because the deal wasn't about the weapons, it was about killing them…

_Well, shit._

Tim was muttering to his comms, probably relaying information to O. Smart thing to do, also, if they were really in a trap. It probably meant Babs would turn this into a rescue mission which took priority over getting Blackie.

So the Bat and the lapdog were coming.

_Well, double shit._

"How are you still conscious?" Tim asked looking worried and resuming assembling whatever it was he was doing with the stuff from his chest belts.

"That fucking toy's not gonna bring me down, pretty bird," he said with a false bravado that clashed with the wrecked feeling he had all over his body and the dizziness that was making it impossible for him to focus on a single line of thought. The pretty bird was muttering under his breath as he got to work on taking his vitals and Jason finally realized he had assembled a subcutaneous injector, probably for administering the antidote.

Because, of course, Tim was now running around with Artificial-K antidote. His pretty bird was smart and cautious like that.

…

**_His_ ** _pretty bird?_

That…

He was allowed that, right? _His pretty bird_. He's almost certain he's agreed to it. Or at least he'd been close to.

That was what the rooftop stuff had been all about, right?

It was a nice idea, having the pretty bird to be his. After all the bullshit he'd gotten from Roy, after learning he was his soulmate after all. After everything…

Having the pretty bird being _his_ would be a nice…

It felt nice, thinking about having those beautiful blues looking at him…

It felt…

…

"Wake up!" Jason felt a jolt of electricity run through his spine and the cold aftermath of the adrenaline release clashed horribly with the pain in his muscles making him hiss angrily at Tim.

_What the fuck!?_

"You need to stay conscious, Hood," Tim said probably reading the curse in his glare and hiss.

"Weren't you complaining…" he started to say, but the words died in his mouth as Tim struggled with his jacket and he felt the prick of the needle in his hip. Right where he'd applied it three weeks ago to him.

Now karma had decided they needed a role reversal. Jason decided he hated these kinds of ‘ _what goes around'_ bullshit karma things. Plus, he'd treated Tim good that day. Even with the whole mindfuck, he'd protected the pretty bird.

There was no reason for this to happen to him.

This had happened to him…

To Tim…

…

"No, no, no… Eyes open, Hood," Tim shook him and Jason groaned through the pain but opened his eyes and focused on the pretty bird. Specifically in those blue eyes looking at him all big and worried and blue.

_Blue?_

He tilted his head and was surprised to notice he could see the pretty bird in full colors.

He shouldn't be able to do that.

He really shouldn't.

He turned to look around and found his helmet and a domino mask discarded to the side.

_Oh._

_Fuck, I'm so tired…_

"Please, talk about something while the antidote works," his pretty bird asked and Jason groaned again. He really didn't want to talk. His throat felt closed and his tongue was heavy and sitting uncomfortably in his mouth. But, still, he tried to comply, humming and nodding at the pretty bird.

If he wanted to talk, they'll talk.

"You- You, uhm…" He almost chuckled at the bird's inability to form a single line of small talk, but then he choked when Tim glared at him, suddenly looking at him far too serious before talking, "You said you wanted to try something… What do you wanna try?"

_What?_

It took him five full seconds to connect the dots.

_‘What I'm saying is… If you want, I would like to try-'_

That cleared his mind a little as he returned Tim's stare through half-lidded eyes that were suddenly wide open.

_Try this… us… together._

He hadn't finished the sentence back at the rooftop Roy had tricked him into going. During the conversation, Tim had decided to have in the middle of a fucking street in Gotham, while in costume.

He hadn't said those last three words and Tim wanted… The pretty bird wanted him to…

"‘r ya sh'ting me?" Although half the fog in his brain was starting to lift, and while he was pretty sure his cognitive functions were only mildly sluggish, his throat wasn't playing ball, so Jason felt his tongue trip in own his mouth as he slurred his reply.

The pretty bird could _not_ be seriously asking him to talk about that **_now_** _._

Fuck, he'd been so certain _a rooftop_ had been the worst possible place to have a conversation about soulmates. Trust the pretty bird to be able to out-do himself on that.

Up until today, Jason was sure Roy fucking Harper was the king of coming with messed up scenarios. Roy's situational awareness was fucked. His idea of an acceptable testing ground for a flamethrower was a _fucking_ _shower_ in the middle of the city. Tim was seriously disputing that crown right now.

And Jason would never be able to hold the shower thing against Roy ever again if he decides to share his feelings to his ‘not-a-crush turned soulmate' in the middle of a warehouse filled with Bat-killing gang members.

On the other hand…

There was a pretty reasonable probability that they'll both die here so, Roy would never be able to lord it over him. And Jason would get the whole romantic star-crossed soulmates ‘confessing before he dies' trope.

Plus, Jason _had_ agreed to try.

And Tim was staring.

"F-ne, wh'-ever," he replied sitting straight and trying to focus his thoughts, feeling he was slowly regaining control, "F'k pr'ty b-rd, I wan' th-s…" he cleared his throat loudly and the pretty bird shushed him and looked panicked at the back trying to spy if some of the rats running around the place had made them. After a second passed and no one came in, he focused back again and nodded.

Right.

So…

"I wanna… do- it," Jason confessed, remembering what he'd been thinking back in the rooftop, "Not the whole… soulmate… bullshit, nec-ss'r-ly… necss…. Nec-es-sar-i-ly," he repeated the word three times until it came properly and he cleared his throat again, trying to be less noisy and feeling his mind clear out a lot at the end of it.

His head was considerably clearer and his tongue had stopped feeling heavy.

"I want you," he said honestly, properly, looking at him in the eye and noticing Tim's flush, "And I want to take you on a date. Give it a shot, the whole thing. Wining and dining, and maybe take you for a ride…" he finished with a smirk thinking about his date plans for Tim…

Tim rose an eyebrow at that and came closer to him, " _Oh, really_?" he asked, "You think I'm that _easy_?" and Jason frowned at that, not really getting what about this situation was supposed to be easy, but Tim continued before he had a chance to reply. "What _exactly_ do you plan on having me _ride_ during our first date, Jason?" he whispered sending a shiver down his spine, but Jason's mind immediately went to the answer.

Because he knew the answer to that. He'd had it all planned out since Roy's chili dog idea had worked out.

A Honda CBX Blackbird. 1999. Personally handcrafted fairing to match the Red Hood look.

A fucking beauty he'd bought back- _Before_. One of the few things he'd hold on to from his Robin days.

Alfie had taken care of it when he'd died, he'd given it back when he'd detoxed.

He wanted to take Tim on that ride and go up following the Palisades Interstate. And then take any exit and just go hiking. He'd half lost himself in the image when he noticed Tim's small grin and half-raised an eyebrow " _Wha-?_ " he was about to ask him what was funny when he noticed Tim's proximity, the eyebrow giggling, the inviting grin.

_What do you plan on having me **ride**? _

Jason's brain almost short-circuited when the double entendre finally clicked, " ** _My_** **_bike_** , you _rotten nerd_ ," he almost screamed feeling his lungs protest at the feeling, but more importantly, feeling the blood rushing up to his face… and down south, "I wanna take you for a ride on my bike _,_ " he elaborated.

Tim's grin grew wider and _fuck him_ he was biting on his lower lip as he came even closer, his breath fogging up Jason's face and, _fuck_ he was really close.

" _Kinky_ ," Tim breathed out with a deep voice that had Jason's face flaring up, and a wholly different part of his body suddenly getting very interested and it wasn't until now that he realized that Tim had somehow trapped him between his thighs, he was… he was fucking straddling him… _riding…_

Nope.

Not happening.

Not like this.

"Shut up-" he pleaded to him pushing him aside, quietly, suddenly remembering where they were.

Tim chuckled softly as he looked at him from the side where he was disassembling the antidote gun and storing it in his belt again while Jason tried hard to compose himself.

"You're blushing…" he commented almost offhandedly after half a second and Jason flipped him off without looking, taking his domino back and putting it on his face. He was _not_ acknowledging anything.

"And here I was thinking the infamous Red Hood was shameless," Tim continued wiggling his eyebrows and grinning like the fucking _little shit_ he was.

Jason realized he'd fucking screwed up by telling Tim about his _not-a-fucking-crush_. And he was fucking screwed because the little shit looked absolutely fucking hot and cute and Jason was swaying between being aroused and annoyed at Tim's newfound forwardness.

"You're a demon," Jason said taking his helmet on his hands and giving Tim a final glare before putting it without turning it on and allowing himself to fully blush and grin like the idiot he was. He knew he wasn't supposed to do this. He wasn't supposed to put the Hood and allow himself to be Jason, but… fuck it, his pretty bird just _straddled_ him and teased him with a _ride_ on his _bike._

He had to remind himself of Deadshot, the gangs and the Artificial-K weapons to prevent himself from moving on instinct and trying to continue the flirting. He took a deep breath and tried to move his legs. The pain had mostly subsided but the waves of tiredness had started to settle in his bones and it was making it really hard for him not to want to groan, slump on the floor and sleep for a whole year.

Actually, the flirting might have been a good idea, now that he thinks about it, it allowed him not to focus on the tiredness or the pain as the antidote worked its magic.

Probably why the pretty bird decided to go that route in the middle of a mission.

_Smart sexy bird._

"We need to get out of here," Tim said putting on his own domino and looking at him, grabbing his arm. Jason tried to get up but his arm failed him and he ended up back on the floor, groaning. "Come on, Hood," Tim said trying again, but his muscles refused to agree with him.

Jason was about to tell him to leave him here and go find help, but Tim came close to his face, "Make you a deal…" he said licking his lips and Jason's attention was 100% on those lips. "You get your ass off the ground, we get out of here, and I'll go- I'll go wining, dining; I'll take the _ride._ _Both of them_."

_What?_

Jason looked at Tim and felt a pit of fire settle there, "You would _bargain_ _it?_ Just like that?" he growled feeling like mud had settled on him. Thinking of Tim just offering _rides_ , exchanging _favors_.

"Not a bargain. A deal. A date," Tim amended quickly, "Maybe, I want to. I- No, not maybe. I want those things too… Let's get out of here so we can both get what we want, Hood."

"You want it…" he half stated looking at Tim, unable to hide the grin from his voice.

"We get out of here safely and I'll even dress up as a cowboy for your _ride_ ," Tim said with a wink and a grin and _fuck him_ if that wasn't a _lovely_ promise.

_Lovely, sexy, naughty Tim, in nothing but a cowboy hat, spread over my bike, his cheeks open for… Stop!_

Nope.

He couldn't let himself _be affected_ by that image. He was certainly revisiting that image _as soon_ as he's back in his safe house, preferably after a shower, definitively with some lube and tissues close at hand.

But for now, he needs to focus.

He needs to stop.

"Deal," Jason said turning his helmet on, becoming Red Hood and trying to press _Jason_ to the back of his mind. He mustered all his will into his muscles and forced himself to get up, and as he did Red turned around giving him an unrestricted view of that tight ass all clad in red leather and Kevlar. It looked…

_Fuck! God have mercy on a guy. I'm trying to work here!_

He shook his mind out of the gutter as he tuned in on Red muttering to himself, "definitively the ventilation system. Maybe-" Hood looked up to the grill and imagined Red was talking about their escape route. Probably thinking of slipping out by squeezing himself into a duct.

_Yeah… that's not happening._

"Fuck, no," he said taking deep breaths and focusing on assessing just how compromised his muscles were. If he tried to measure his energy, he would be probably about 35% functional right now, he could probably fight for a good 20 minutes. He checked both his guns as his mind was starting to clear and he forced the pain to subside to an irksome pressure all over his body. It was nothing he couldn't deal with.

Red was looking at him frowning and Hood turned around pointing at the main floor.

"We're leaving through the main entrance," he informed Red. He turned to look at him with a face that spelled different versions of ‘ _You're crazy'_ in at least eleven languages. Hood chuckled and took a step up getting completely in Red's personal space as he whispered in his ear, "I'm fucking _earning_ my ride, pretty bird."

He patted Red's ass and had to control himself not to squeeze as he enjoyed Tim's hitched breath. He licked his lips thinking of other ways he could make Tim's breath break like that, what other sounds he could draw out of him as Tim started listing all the ways going to the main entrance would be a fucking terrible idea, but he didn't—

Wait… _Tim?_

_Fuck._

Hood turned around trying to project a collected front of dutifully ignoring _Red_. He wasn't supposed to do this while the helmet was on. Sure, flirting while being the Hood was ok. Even flirting with Red, might be ok. But _Tim_ was a dangerous flirt. He wasn't supposed to be _Tim_ while the Hood was on. He was Red, not Tim.

Not right now.

To do the things he did and be able to maintain a certain part of himself intact, Hood had to compartmentalize his emotions. Not in the way the Bat did. Not in the way Red did. He had to be _Red Hood_ and Jason was supposed to be under the domino mask. Buried at least two levels beneath the surface of the helmet.

He wasn't supposed to be flirting with _Tim._ Tim was Jason's problem. He was the Hood right now.

He repeated it in his mind three times and felt detached enough to focus again on his surroundings. Apparently, Red had given up and decided to try to come up with a plan that didn't get them killed.

Which was probably a good idea if he plans to make good with the date he just got for _Jason_.

And Hood needed to be smart about this. Surely leaving right now through a vent was probably the safest route for them; but if they left right now, Deadshot and the gangs would notice they let them get away, and that their plan had failed, which would mean they'll probably scramble and hide in the gutters for who the fucks knows how long, until the heat dies and they can try again.

They needed to keep them focused on them until Bats showed up with reinforcements and they could put a fucking end to this. Get all the weapons and Deadshot out of the streets. Plus, he owes old _Red-Eye_ a couple bullet holes for their last encounter, for hurting _Red_.

He's fucking settling today.

He counted his inventory while Red did mutter with himself and the comms-

_Right, Oracle-_

He thought about it but decided to keep the comms offline. Red would tell him if something was wrong. He doesn't need the constant chatter in his head driving him mad while he fought the last remnants of K-poisoning.

The last thing he needs right now is a headache.

A fast count told him he still had 120 rubber bullets, 36 heat-seeking bullets, 36 exploding bullets, six flash grenades, six smoke bombs, five acoustic distorters, three recorders, eleven batarangs, a pack of C-4, and an assortment of classic bat-grade tools.

All in all a normal count.

Problem was, this wasn't a normal gig.

He'll need about twice as much of everything if he wanted to get through the main floor of the warehouse.

_Well… He did have twice as much…_

He had back-up…

He turned to Red and was about to ask him for a count on his resources, but the pretty bird looking at him worried. "Are you sure you don't just want the ventilation duct or waiting for backup? I promise the ride will still be happening even if we just stay here hidden," he said with his lip caught between his teeth, although this time it wasn't sexiness what he was projecting, it was a worry.

"Pretty bird, you're worth the effort," Hood tried to bullshit his way into this. He knew Red had already taken into account the consequences of hiding. Of leaving. He just thought it was worth it because he was hurt. But… _Nah, I couldn't do that._

"We're going to die," Red informed him and Hood was about to ask for a little bit of confidence but the pretty bird kept talking with a resigned sigh. "Switch to infrared."

Hood frowned but obeyed and the whole place was covered in a black and red hue that made it hard to see with the amount of light in the room.

It was true that most infrared displays were actually green, but again, this was one of the many modifications Roy had made to his suit to prevent Pit flare-ups. It had been originally Talia's idea. It was the reason why his helmet was red on the inside too. The _red_ was supposed to counter any green environments, Talia's idea of a trick to prevent an unwanted trigger in the middle of a fight. Roy had managed to apply that to the display as well.

Still, too much light.

He was about to tell that to Red when the lights in the entire place went off and he heard the cacophony of a bunch of confused rats running around. "How?" he asked softly as he made his way to the back of the room Red had hidden them in.

"Falcone's nephew's a sucker for smart building. Not so much for firewalls," Red informed him.

Well, who would have guessed it? 21st-century crime: smart warehouses, stupid criminals. He could work with that.

He opened the door slightly and peeked around. It seemed clear, so he opened the door and turned immediately to the left to cover Red's back as he left the room. The two of them made their way through the small corridor that joined the offices on the second floor of the warehouse without meeting any resistance. He knew as soon as they left the office space and walked into the storage area all hell would break loose.

And just walking the couple steps they'd covered was starting to take a toll on him.

_Think of something else… think of anything but the pain…_

He repeated that as they opened the doors to the storage area. They found themselves face to face with two thugs. Hood looked back at their arms and almost smiled when he saw they were carrying normal rifles. The darkness covered him just enough so that the guys weren't able to recognize him immediately and two savage hits on the temples with the butt of his guns had the guys falling to the floor unconscious. Someone on the back yelled at the sound of the bodies hitting the metallic railing but only a couple of thugs had started to bring out their cellphones and flashlights and whoever yelled obviously hadn't thought about it yet.

Red moved to the right and started the descent on the metallic stairs. Once they hit the floor, they each signaled a direction and a time. Red would take right, Hood would take left. They'll meet halfway through in five.

Good.

He can do that.

_The pain is not that bad._

He brought his mental map of the warehouse.

They had entered through the offices, which were a small addition to the eastern side of the warehouse, it was a sort of "second floor" in the middle of the place that oversaw the entire storage space, the railing and the stairs were pretty much all there was in the building. The rest of the space was rows and rows of metallic racks filled with crates, all the way to the entrance, where there was a reception desk, and a couple tables.

He started moving through the rows, trying to avoid the cones of light coming from the flashlights and cellphones, while gaining terrain towards the entrance…. where there were at least fifty gang members, the leaders of their gangs and Deadshot. All trying to kill them. Fun.

_Think happy thoughts, Hood._

He couldn't manage to go too far though, because half a second later, he was distracted by a flash of light and several discharges of what he now could identify as the Artificial-K weapon, as well as at least half a dozen of normal gunshots. He could also hear the sound of fighting and he knew Red had made contact. He saw how two cones of light close to him started moving that way and he jumped behind them and shot at their knees, finishing them off with kicks to the head.

He grunted as the pain flared up from his foot to his knee.

_Not that bad._

He huffed and started moving slightly faster. The gunshots had alerted the thugs of a second intruder and he could see several beams of light moving towards him. He dived fast to the right as he saw one of the Artificial-K weapons being pointed at him. The beam of light didn't hit him and actually gave him a good indication of the location of the thug so he fired back several rounds until he heard a groan and the green beam stopped.

He didn't get any chance of taking a breath, though, as a second beam grazed his left side, forcing him on a tight roll to dive behind a crate. He took a labored breath and turned around firing both guns a little more blindly until his red display showed him the guy with the weapon and he fired three times.

He made a run towards the middle of the warehouse and heard the sound of Red's battle, smiling when he saw another guy on the floor, not one of his.

A guy came out of nowhere and Hood was thrown hard against one of the racks drawing a grunt from him as the guy, armed with a knife of all things, moved closer to him, apparently being able to look at him despite the darkness.

_Great._

Knife guy came charging and Hood pivoted on his left foot to try an easy evasion maneuver, luckily Knife guy didn't seem to be too good of a fighter and he fell for it leaving his side open for a hard punch and a low kick from Jason. He felt the pain flare up on both his knee and fist but he ignored them. Knife guy coughed and moved to the side, probably trying to charge again, but he'd given Hood enough time to aim, so he simply shot him twice in the legs and left him there, before turning around and running towards the halfway meeting point.

He was almost at the column they'd agreed with Red when three guys with Artificial-K weapons showed up and started firing at him. Hood threw himself behind a crate and groaned again at the pain.

_Weren't there supposed to be like three or four of those? Where the fuck…?_

He rested his head on the crate that was serving as a shield and raised his hand above it to fire blindly at the guys. His head was starting to get cloudy again.

_No._

_The pain is not that bad… Forget it. Think… Think of the reward…_

He wasn't supposed to. He knew he wasn't supposed to, but the green and the pain were messing with his head. He knew he needed to think of anything else. He needed…

_Tim._

Hood took off the helmet and took a deep breath outside of the constricting red hue of the helmet. He knew the red was supposed to counter the green in the environment, but right now it wasn't helping, the radioactive laser blasts of the Artificial-K still registered as green even with the helmet and the enclosed space was driving him crazy…

And honestly, the infrared in his domino was enough for him to see.

So…

Helmet off…

Unfortunately, that meant the Hood was also off…

He was back to being Jason… And Jason needed to fucking get his head back in the game. He needed something to drive him off the pain and the flashes of green.

The crate started to crack at the sides from the force of the blast and he dived to the right as one of the green laser blasts came through the crate. He shot a barrage of bullets, managing to hit one of the guys on the legs long enough for the others to stop firing, giving him the opening to close the distance and firing with far more accuracy.

The tiredness returned full force and he took a step resting his back on a column.

Meeting Place.

Good.

He looked back to the right and saw Red was holding off three guys, taking them off with his staff just a couple feet from him. He hadn't heard it before, a fight, just a couple feet away.

 _Fuck_.

Looking at Red running up a wall to hit the guy with the side of his staff as he pivoted to get another one with a savage series of kicks made Jason smile softly. The kid was a weird mix of Dick's acrobatics and Bruce's bull-headed strength. He wasn't a bruiser like himself, but he was a fucking ace scrapper fighter.

He looked as a fourth guy tried to sneak up on Red and he pushed himself and tackled him, all 210 pounds, hitting the guy from the back, hearing a satisfying crack and the poor asshole's yell of pain. Red turned confused, and _fuck_ this clown had actually managed to sneak up on the pretty bird.

"What happened to your helmet?" Red asked and Jason just shrugged him off and grunted as they took a breath on the column. He couldn't exactly be sure, but they were halfway there. They could do this. Sure. Totally doable… If he wasn't feeling as if his arms might fall off at any second now.

Red moved to the side and slid soundlessly through the crates, making two hand gestures at him.

_Work our way to the entrance._

Right.

Break's over.

Ok. Ok. Just think of something… anything to let his mind drive the pain away while he relies on muscle memory to fight the assholes.

He moved to the opposite side of Tim and ran up the rack to land on the other side, behind another guy with an Artificial-K weapon. Just being near the things was enough to tire his muscles. Not to mentions, the lasers were messing with the heat signatures giving him false readings all over the place.

The guy didn't go down with the first hit so Jason found himself in a headlock from a fucking Italian Karate Kid reject.

_Ok, ok. Think of something… Tim… I got myself a date with Tim… I have to impress him, woo him._

He let his body move by itself and locked the guy's legs with his thigs and instead of trying to break the headlock he focused on making him lose his footing and then turning around and punching him in the balls. He ignored the flare-up on his side and cleared his head as the guy doubled down in pain and Jason finished him with a kick.

_I have to treat him right and fucking earn that date._

He ran up to the end of this row of crates and tackled two unsuspecting goons and fired off three rounds on the other guys who were moving ahead, probably going to check on the ruckus that was just to his right, where Tim seemed to be fighting another group of thugs.

_A dinner. Nice, fancy, fucking expensive dinner to show the pretty bird I'm fucking worth the date. Fuck soulmates. He's not a soulmate, he's a date I'm going to woo and fucking win over._

He was starting to move closer to the entrance and it was starting to become clear most of the thugs had decided they wanted to protect their bosses because every single row he and Tim passed seemed to have double the amount of people.

_So, a restaurant… A nice one here in Gotham…_

About five rows from the entrance, he found himself locked into a fight with seven assholes, all trying to find a weakness, although, luckily, no stupid, stupor inducing weapons this time, just a good old knife fight. He pocketed his guns, he had a feeling he needed to save that ammo for the entrance fight.

Ok. He can do this…

_Nah, no restaurants. A home-cooked meal. That's like fancy and romantic as shit, right?_

Thug #1 launched at him with a yell and a raised knife and Jason simply evaded the downward movement and grabbed the guy by the throat crushing savagely and enjoying the snap as he tossed the guy to the side bashing his back against a wooden crate.

_Fuck yeah. Something nice but meaningful… Something he'll relate to…_

Thugs 2 and 3 came each from one side and Jason pivoted on his left foot using the spinning motion to grab the arm of #2 and forcing the knife to lodge on the shoulder of #3.

_Drake… that's an old British name. Maybe doing some English… Sheppard's pie?_

Jason growled feeling his blood boil as he yanked the knife from #3's shoulder before grabbing him from the neck, and forcing his head to bash hard against #2's. The two of them fell to the floor unconscious and Jason ran up to the remaining four guys who'd stayed on the back of the fight.

_Nah… Fancy. He's a fancy kid. He's up there in the top of WE tower every day. Something posh and fancy…_

Jason threw himself to the floor instead of meeting all the fists and knives and used his stolen knife to slice through the ankles of #4, before lodging the knife hard on #5's knee and kicking him far away from them.

_Duck. Some honey-glazed duck with… with something earthy…_

The remaining two guys took a step back after seeing the two guys next to them fall and in their moment of hesitation, Jason decided to take his guns and shot them point-blank on their knees as well.

It was just two bullets…

_Saffron rice…_

It was just two bullets. And no matter how distracted he wanted to be, the fire of the Pit was not mixing well with the tiredness of whatever that gun had done to him.

At least his distraction strategy worked. At least he'd found something he could focus on that kept most of the pain at bay. He jogged up to the last row before the entrance and saw Tim crouching behind a military-looking crate.

Jason wasn't exactly sure if it was the tiredness, or their conversation, or the fact that he hadn't done anything other than thinking about the fucking date of theirs for the past five minutes, or if it was the fucking soulmate thing messing with his mind, but he couldn't get the idea of his mind that he definitively wanted to knock the socks out of his pretty bird.

 _I mean,_ _what if he doesn't like duck? Or is allergic to saffron? Or he simply doesn't like homemade meals? Although, really, who doesn't like duck?_

_Oh, fuck…._

So, he decided to include him in the decision-making process. He moved silently until he was almost next to him, "Duck?" he asked softly when he was close enough.

Seeing Tim drop himself to the floor without a second hesitation made Jason feel insanely warm and fuzzy with trust, even if he wanted to laugh and be a bit of an asshole. It also made him realize he'd lost the meaning there, so he corrected, "No… I mean, you like duck, the animal?"

"What?" Tim was looking at him wildly like he'd lost his mind and even turned around to look at the deserted row of crates. Yeah, all the other goons and gang members were circling around their bosses, all of which seemed to be packing Artificial-K guns.

 _Fuck._ Jason could already feel the fucking pain in the ass this bullshit was going to be.

Still, priorities.

"For our dinner, I'm thinking duck," he elaborated.

Tim looked at him as he raised himself from the floor, where he'd dropped to the floor (and Jason was still kind of touched Tim had simply dropped just from a word from him, talk about trust and confidence, right?) and even though the white lens Jason could _feel_ the ‘ _are you kidding me?'_ stare. He didn't care, he wanted to be sure before he would commit to a plan of action for their date. Plus, he was kind of planning to have their date as soon as he gets his ass out of this warehouse, possibly after waking up, having passed out from exhaustion, so he's kind of pressed for time.

"Seriously?" Tim asked dumbfounded, squatting in the floor instead of kneeling like Jason was. He nodded and Tim stared at him for half a second before sighing, though Jason saw the beginnings of a smile on his lips, so he wasn't really worried, "I'll be all right with a burger or some pizza," Tim said.

"No way," Jason rebuked immediately before turning to the side and firing three rounds at a couple guys he saw coming from the side, they needed to move now. He tugged at Tim's arm and they ran to the left towards a high pile of crates.

He realized it wasn't just his arms anymore, his legs were starting to feel really hot and heavy right now. He needed to finish this bullshit _right now_ if he wanted to live to tell the tale… and date the bird. So, catching his breath from a 5-yard run, Jason came back to the topic at hand, "We did junk food already, I want something fancy."

Tim decided to stop staring at him and looked ahead at the entrance. Jason knew they'll have to break that tight formation somehow. Tim was probably working on it now. They stayed there for a couple seconds and Jason didn't take his eyes from Tim, waiting for an answer. He grinned when the pretty bird sighed and slumped his shoulders, "Fine, then. No duck. But I like Mediterranean. Greek or Turkish, perhaps," he said and Jason's grin deepened.

"Ok, Greek or Turkish it is…" he agreed and moved to look at the entrance.

_Chicken thighs in yogurt sauce with some rosemary baked potatoes… maybe a salad… Fuck_

They had to drop to the floor as a cone of light illuminated them and a laser of Artificial-K burned the crate above them, forcing them to roll back to a column. "Fucking lasers," he cursed as he felt the already painfully familiar drain of energy every time he moved closer to one of those.

"That's not a laser," Tim corrected next to him and Jason turned to stare at him. Tim seemed to notice his stare and decided to develop his answer. "The wave is not coherent enough to be a laser, it disperses too much from-"

" _The fuck_ are you talking about?" he stopped him from going full nerd rant. He doesn't fucking care about _light coherence_ and he certainly doesn't need the AP Physics lecture on light properties right now. Still, Tim was not one to be deterred.

" _That_ is nothing like a laser gun," he said pointing at one of the guns "It's more like a _flamethrower_ ," he finished.

And Jason was about to show him exactly how many fucks he gave about proper nomenclature when something clicked in his head. "Does it heat up like one too?"

It could explain why the infrared was messed up by the guns. And it could give them a window.

"It should, why?" Tim answered and Jason didn't answer instead he smiled and he thanked the Powers That Be for Roy motherfucking Harper. He pulled out the heat-seeking bullets he'd kept hidden away.

"What's that?" Tim asked curiously and Jason grinned at him showing them.

"Heat-seeking bullets," he said passing a couple cartridges to him. Tim's incredulous stare was a pretty nice addition to the feeling of elation he'd felt after listening the fucking guns might heat up and create viable targets for the bullets.

" _What?_ That's amazing! How did you put infrared homing on such a small casing?" Tim asked dumbfounded.

" _I_ didn't do shit. Ask Roy, he's the mad genius," Jason replied as he finished changing the magazines with the heat-seeking bullets.

"How many do you have?" Tim asked passing him the cartridge back and Jason added to the extra magazines.

"36," he replied mechanically.

"And why didn't you use them before!?" Jason looked up to see him and saw the sweat covering Tim's face and the tiredness in his figure. He remembered that even though Tim had said he was healed, he hadn't been taking patrol or missions lately, probably he wasn't keeping up with his training either. Jason wasn't the only one fighting effects of Artificial-K, even if his effects were far more severe.

" _Heat-seeking_ , pretty bird," he replied calmly, "We're wrong about this and this baby's gonna fly up someone's chest." Tim's horrified face made it clear for Jason that he hadn't taken that possibility into account. It was the reason he didn't use these ones unless absolutely necessary. He didn't like the idea of not being 100% in control of the bullet's path and destination.

He moved slowly to the side and took a couple metallic marbles from one of his pouches and gave them to Tim making a gesture to the left far side. He got his intention immediately and moved ready to throw the marbles. Jason nodded and Tim threw them as hard as he could, making sure they hit some metallic surface.

The distraction paid off and two idiots fired their guns. Jason saw the increase in temperature and fired two bullets slightly off target and making sure the path of the bullet was unobstructed. Not even an instant later he saw both the weapons explode on the hands on the assholes. He had to bite the yell of excitement.

"It works," Tim confirmed looking at him "We'll have to make sure they fire them and try to account for the bullet's path," Tim said looking at him and Jason hummed. He knew that. These bullets were heat-seeking, but they weren't perfect. If he fires wrong, the bullet might go through someone's brains because it's the shortest path to one of the guns.

"Yeah…" he agreed and turned to look at "Stay hidden. And try to cool off your body heat," he instructed Tim and got ready to leave the place but Tim ignored his order and moved to his side.

"I'll draw the fire," he said and was about to go out in the open, but Jason moved ahead and grabbed his arm pushing him back to the relative safety behind the crates.

"You'll fucking not," he said with a growl. Tim rose an eyebrow and Jason felt the Pit and the tiredness fight in his body as his fingers itched to fire a couple rounds. He was about to yell at Tim about the fucking insanity of being out in the open drawing fire while Jason fired heat-seeking bullets but the pretty bird simply shrugged his arm off.

"Stop me," he said as he ran out of the crates and started making a fucking lot of noise that draws at least three Artificial-K lasers… well… Oh, fuck it, he's calling them lasers. He exhaled hard and focused on the shooters, taking three calculated shots and smiling savagely as the weapons exploded. The green mist covered his view and Jason realized it was going to be a fucking nightmare to walk around the warehouse with the exploded Artificial-K.

Someone pointed a flashlight at him that nearly blinded him in the infrared display but he closed his eyes and run and rolled to the side as a barrage of lasers and regular bullets started raining around him. He cursed as he moved closer to the entrance and forced his body to plow through a wave of nausea as an Artificial-K laser got him in the leg. He howled and fired blindly three times and was satisfied to hear two explosions near him.

He moved around trying to get as much cover as possible and then an explosion blasted the last row of crates and Jason saw Tim flying backward and falling to the side as three assholes prepared to fire. Jason threw a smoke pellet and fired off, making the guns explode.

And then, the lights returned.

Jason blinked as his domino mask automatically dropped the infrared.

For a second everyone stood still, weapons, cellphones and flashlights raised. Jason, also stood frozen, guns raised and his eyes looking desperately for Tim. He walked out of the smoke, supporting himself heavily on his staff.

_Well, shit._

His entire body was itching to fire, to kill all the fucking assholes that had hurt the pretty bird and were making him push his body beyond the fucking limits of sanity, but the tension in the air was fucking palpable and Jason wasn't exactly sure what the fuck they were waiting for.

Then, the leader of the Chinese Triad huffed angrily, "There's only fucking two?" And that broke whatever tension there was and everyone started firing their guns at Jason and Tim and the both of them had to scramble. Jason flipped one of the tables where they'd been meeting and hid behind it while firing a couple extra rounds, not even bothering with paths. This was completely fucked up now.

The light had emboldened the people with the Artificial-K weapons and they were all firing and the whole place was lit green and his muscles were hurting everywhere. It was taking all of him to simply keep his eyes open and pulling the trigger.

Jason shook his head through the dizziness and jumped to the side standing up and walking towards the second table, firing the heat-seeking bullets hoping that with everyone firing at once, the bullets would hit as many targets as possible, but the explosions of the Artificial-K only made it even harder not to see the green and his lungs were on fire, asking for a little respite.

By the time he reached the second table both the magazines were empty and he tossed one gun and put the last 12-bullet magazine on his right-hand gun and took a deep breath.

Last chance.

He knew he needed to make this count. He was preparing himself for trying to make sure he got a 12-hit count when he heard a chilling scream to the right and his brain forgot how to reason. He felt his whole body boil and he jumped out to see Tim pinned against a laser of Artificial-K and Jason roared as he shot the guy hurting his bird, aiming for his head. He growled frustrated as the bullet changed direction and instead his weapon exploded, he turned around and moved towards the group of gang leaders firing his eleven remaining rounds at them, and a cloud of exploding Artificial-K weapons covered the entrance of the warehouse.

Jason felt his shoulder explode in pain and turned around to see a guy with a Mini UZI aiming at him, the pain from the wound blinding him for a second, Jason prepared himself to take the remaining guys head-on, when O's voice cut through his mind haze.

"Clear the entrance."

The ceiling of the warehouse exploded and Jason had to move to the side to prevent a piece of concrete falling into his head. He looked up and he saw the Bat jumping down and extending his cape, a shadow of doom extending itself over the floor of the warehouse.

A different shadow dropped next to him and Jason turned around to see Nightwing flipping around next to him hitting two thugs in their legs, before jumping to the side and using his eskrima sticks to bash a guy's head. Jason saw one the previous thugs getting up again and he took out his revolver.

He saw Nightwing had already seen the guy and was moving to hit him over the head, but Jason simply shoots behind Nightwing, getting one of the guy's knees.

"Dude!" Nightwing jumped back scared seeing his enemy fall and turned to give him a glare that quickly turned into a look of concern "Are you ok?"

Jason ignored him and decided he didn't fucking liked the relief he was feeling right now as Batman, Nightwing, and Black Bat filled the warehouse and distracted everyone from them.

"Backup?" he asked him moving closer to him.

"Little Wing, look at you," Nightwing said gesturing at him and placing a hand on his shoulder, "I'm the _rescue_ ," he added and Jason knew he should be annoyed. He knew he should be fucking pissed at him. But… Honestly…

"Sure thing, big guy…" he said and turned to see his pretty bird being assisted up by Black Bat, "Yo, Red!" he called and he grinned as he saw him looking back. Jason pointed at Nightwing, "This counts as an exit," he said feeling a smile creep on his lips. He didn't get to see Tim's reaction, though. As soon as he said that, he felt his legs give in and his whole body turned into jelly as he fell on Nightwing's arms, his vision blurring and fading to black.

_No matter._

_I fucking got my date._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!!
> 
> About this chapter… Yes, Jason’s doing a 180 in his thought process, but as I see it, he just got through a very emotional conversation, he found out his soulmate definitively cares for him, he got shot and his head’s messed up, and he’s doing anything he can to stay conscious. So, while this Jason’s pretty much acting like a silly bird in love, during the next couple chapters we’ll see how he really feels and how he navigates the idea of going to a date with all the baggage of the first half of the story.
> 
> Also, in my mind, Tim uses flirting as a joke to cut through overly emotional conversations (like his conversation with Dick or here with Jason), but can’t deal with people really flirting with him (we’ll see this later) or joking about sex with him (Like Bart and Dick joking about him and Kon).

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, 
> 
> So, this was supposed to be a one-shot 5K story. Then it turned into two-shot story.
> 
> Right now it's a four-chapter +15K story, threatening to become a full-blown series.
> 
> This story is UNFINISHED. I will try to post a new chapter every other week, but I might take some time as I am currently focusing on my Birdflash series.


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